NORTHWESTERN
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
The Gift of
I'RS. L. W. AUBRCSE
WORKS
OF
CHARLES DICKENS.
<*Mobe <£&itioti.
Illustrated from Designs by Darley and Gilbert.
BARNABY RUDGE. f
SKETCHES. — Part II.
ruvh volumes '/y una.
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON.
Camfcrittsc: latberiitte
1870.
Entered according to Act of Congress, In the rear 1887, by
Hoed end Houghton.
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court Ibr the Southern District d
New York.
RIVERSIDE, OAHBRHHA.
If1KE0TTPED AND PRINTED
H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANT
■«
BARNABY RUDGE.
A TALE OF THE RIOTS OF 'EIGHTY
VOLUME I.
\
PREFACE.
As it is Mr. Waterton's opinion that ravens are
gradually becoming extinct in England, I offer a few
words here about mine.
The raven in this story is a compound of two great
originals, of whom I have been, at different times, the
proud possessor. The first was in the bloom of his
youth, when he was discovered in a modest retirement
in London, by a friend of mine, and given to me. He
had from the first, as Sir Hugh Evans says of Anne
Page, " good gifts," which he improved by study and
attention in a most exemplary manner. He slept in
a stable — generally on horseback — and so terrified
a Newfoundland dog by his preternatural sagacity,
that he has been known, by the mere superiority of
his genius, to walk off unmolested with the dog's din-
ner, from before his face. He was rapidly rising in
acquirements and virtues, when, in an evil hour, his
stable was newly painted. He observed the workmen
closely, saw that they were careful of the paint, and
vi
PREFACE.
immediately burned to possess it. On their going to
dinner, he ate up all they had left behind, consisting
of a pound or two of white lead; and this youthful
indiscretion terminated in death.
While I was yet inconsolable for his loss, another
friend of mine in Yorkshire discovered an older and
more gifted raven at a village public-house, which he
prevailed upon the landlord to part with for a consid-
eration, and sent up to me. The first act of this
Sage, was, to administer to the effects of his prede-
cessor, by disinterring all the cheese and halfpence
he had buried in the garden — a work of immense
labor and research, to which he devoted all the ener-
gies of his mind. When lie had achieved this task,
he applied himself to the acquisition of stable language,
in which he soon became such an adept, that he would
perch outside my window and drive imaginary horses
with great skill, all day. Perhaps even I never saw
him at his best, for his former master sent his duty
with him, " and if I wished the bird to come out very
strong, would I be so good as show him a drunken
man" — which I never did, having (unfortunately)
none but sober people at hand. But I could hardly
have respected him more, whatever the stimulating
I iniluences of this sight might have been. He had not
the least respect, I am sorry to say, for me in return,
or for anybody but the cook; to whom he was at-
tached — but only, I fear, as a Policeman might have
PREFACE.
vii
been. Once, I met him unexpectedly, about half a
mile off, walking down the middle of the public street,
attended by a pretty large crowd, and spontaneously
exhibiting the whole of his accomplishments. His
gravity under those trying circumstances, I never can
forget, nor the extraordinary gallantry with which, re-
fusing to be brought home, he defended himself behind
a pump, until overpowered by numbers. It may have
been that he was too bright a genius to live long, or
it may have been that he took some pernicious sub-
stance into his bill, and thence into his maw — which
is not improbable, seeing that he^ new-pointed the
greater part of the garden-wall by digging out the
mortar, broke countless squares of glass by scraping
away the putty all round the frames, and tore up and
swallowed, in splinters, the greater part of a wooden
staircase of six steps and a landing — but after some
three years he too was taken ill, and died before the
kitchen fire. He kept his eye to the last upon the
meat as it roasted, and suddenly turned over on his
back with a sepulchral cry of " Cuckoo ! "
After this mournful deprivation, I was, for a long
time, ravenless. The kindness of another friend at
length provided me with another raven; but he is not
a genius. He leads the life of a hermit, in my little
orchard, on the summit of Shakspearf.'s Gad's Hill;
he has no relish for society ; he gives no evidence of
ever cultivating his mind; and he has picked up
viii
PREFACE.
nothing but meat since I have known him — except
the faculty of barking like a dog.
Of the story of Barnaby Rudge itself, I do not
think I can say anything here, more to the purpose
than the following passages from the original Preface.
" No account of the Gordon Riots having been to
my knowledge introduced into any Work of Fiction, and
the subject presenting very extraordinary and remark-
able features, I was led to project this Tale.
" It is unnecessary to say, that those shameful tu-
mults, while they reflect indelible disgrace upon the
time in which they occurred, and all who had act or
part in them, teach a good lesson. That what we
falsely call a religious cry is easily raised by men who
have no religion, and who in their daily practice set at
nought the commonest principles of right and wrong;
that it is begotten of intolerance and persecution ; that
it is senseless, besotted, inveterate, and unmerciful; all
History teaches us. But perhaps we do not know it
in our hearts too well, to profit by even so humble an
txample as the ' No Popery' riots of Seventeen Hun-
dred and Eighty.
'• However imperfectly those disturbances are set
forth in the following pages, they are impartially
painted by one who has no sympathy with the Romish
Church, although he acknowledges, as most men do,
some esteemed friends among the followers of its creed-
PREFACE.
ix
" It may be observed that, in the description of the
principal outrages, reference has been had to the best
authorities of that time, such as they are; and that
the account given in this Tale, of all the main fea-
tures of the Riots, is substantially correct.
" It may be further remarked, that Mr. Dennis's
allusions to the flourishing condition of his trade in
those days, have their foundation in Truth, and not
in the Author's fancy. Any file of old Newspapers,
or odd volume of the Annual Register, will prove this,
with terrible ease.
" Even the case of Mary Jones, dwelt upon with
so much pleasure by the same character, is no effort
of invention. The facts were stated, exactly as they
are stated here, in the House of Commons. Whether
they afforded as much entertainment to the merry gen-
tlemen assembled there, as some other most affecting
circumstances of a similar nature mentioned by Sir
Samuel Romilly, is not recorded."
That the case of Mary Jones may speak the more
emphatically for itself, I now subjoin it, as related by
Sir William Meredith in a speech in Parliament,
"on Frequent Executions," made in 1777.
" Under this act," the Shoplifting Act, " one Mary
Jones was executed, whose case I shall just mention;
it was at the time when press-warrants were issued,
X
PREFACE.
on I lie alarm about Falkland Islands. The woman s
husband was pressed, their goods seized for some debts
of his, and she, with two small children, turned into
the streets a-begging. It is a circumstance not to be
forgotten, that she was very young (under nineteen),
and most remarkably handsome. She went to a linen-
draper's shop, took some coarse linen off the counter,
and slipped it under her cloak; the shopman saw her,
and she laid it down: for this she was hanged. Her
defence was (I have the trial in my pocket), ' that
she had lived in credit, and wanted for nothing, till a
press-gang came and stole her husband from her ; but,
since then, she had no bed to lie on ; nothing to give
her children to eat; and they were almost naked ; and
perhaps she might have done something wrong, for she
hardly knew what she did.' The parish officers testi-
fied the truth of this story ; but it seems, there had
been a good deal of shoplifting about Ludgate; an
example was thought necessary; and this woman was
hanged for the comfort and satisfaction of shopkeepers
in Ludgate Street. When brought to receive sentence,
she behaved in such a frantic manner, as proved her
mind to be in a distracted and desponding state; and
the child was sucking at her breast when she set out
for Tyburn."
<$lo&e <£t>ition.
CONTENTS.
PAQ1
BARNABY RUDGE, VOL. I 11 — 315
VOL. II 6 — 315
Vol. III. ••••«• 5—310
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
1—
CONTENTS OF VOLUME IL
CHARACTERS.
■*
{CONTINUED.)
CHAPTER IX.
The Dancing Academy . . T
CHAPTER X.
Shabby-Genteel People 15
CHAPTER XI.
Making a Night of it 31
CHAPTER XII.
The Prisoners' Van 28
TALES.
CHAPTER I. tage
The Boarding-House . 38
CHAPTER II.
Mr. Minns and his Cousin 83
CHAPTER IH.
Sentiment 97
CHAPTER IV.
The T ugg's at Ramsgate ......... 113
CHAPTER V.
Horatio Sparkins Ill
CHAPTER VI.
The Black Veil 162
CHAPTER VII.
The Steam Excursion 177
CHAPTER VHI.
The Great Winglebury Duel 207
CHAPTER IX.
Mrs. Joseph Porter 230
CHAPTER X.
A Passage in the Life of Mr. Watkins Tottle .... 244
CHAPTER XI. .
The Bloomsbury Christening . . 294
CHAPTER XII.
The Drunkard's Death ...... . . 316
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER I.
In the year 1775, there stood upon the borders of
Epping Forest, at a distance of about twelve miles from
London — measuring from the Standard in Cornhill or
rather from the spot on or near to which the Standard
used to be in days of yore — a house of public enter-
tainment called the Maypole ; which fact was demon-
strated to all such travellers as could neither read nor
write (and sixty-six years ago a vast number both of
travellers and stay-at-homes were in this condition) by
the emblem reared on the roadside over against the
house, which, if not of those goodly proportions that
Maypoles were wont to present in olden times, was a
fair young ash, thirty feet in height, and straight as any
arrow that ever English yeoman drew.
The Maypole — by which term from henceforth is
meant the house, and not its sign — the Maypole was
an old building, with more gable ends than a lazy man
would care to count on a sunny day ; huge zigzag chim-
neys, out of which it seemed as though even smoke could
not choose but come in more than naturally fantastic
shapes, imparted to it in its tortuous progress; and vast
stables, gloomy, ruinous and empty. The place was
12
BAKNABY RUDGE.
said to have been built in the days of King Henry the
Eighth; and there was a legend, not only that Queen
Elizabeth had slept there one night while upon a hunt-
ing excursion, to wit, in a certain oak-panelled room with
a deep bay window, but that next morning, while stand-
ing on a mounting block before the door with one foot
in the stirrup, the virgin monarch had then and there
boxed and cuffed an unlucky page for some neglect of
duty. The matter-of-fact and doubtful folks, of whom
there were a few among the Maypole customers, as un-
luckily there always are in every little community, were
inclined to look upon this tradition as rather apocryphal;
but, whenever the landlord of that ancient hostelry
appealed to the mounting block itself as evidence, and
triumphantly pointed out that there it stood in the same
place to that very day, the doubters never failed to be
put down by a large majority, and all true believers
exulted as in a victory.
Whether these, and many other stories of the like
nature, were true or untrue, the Maypole was really an
old house, a very old house, perhaps as old as it claimed
to be, and perhaps older, which will sometimes happen
with houses of an uncertain, as with ladies of a certain,
age. Its windows were old diamond-pane lattices, its
floors were sunken and uneven, its ceilings blackened by
the hand of time and heavy with massive beams. Over
the door-way was an ancient porch, quaintly and gro-
tesquely carved; and here on summer evenings the more
favored customers smoked and drank — ay, and sung
many a good song too, sometimes — reposing on two grim-
looking high-backed settles, which, like the twin dragons
of some fairy tale, guarded the entrance to the mansion.
In the chimneys of the disused rooms, swallows had
BARNABY RUDGE.
13
built their nests for many a long year, and from earliest
spring to latest autumn whole colonies of sparrows
chirped and twittered in the eaves. There were more
pigeons about the dreary stable-yard and out-buildings
than anybody but the landlord could reckon up. The
wheeling and circling flights of runts, fantails, tumblers,
and pouters, were perhaps not quite consistent with the
grave and sober character of the building, but the mo-
notonous cooing, which never ceased to be raised by
some among them all day long, suited it exactly, and
seemed to lull it to rest. With its overhanging stories,
drowsy little panes of glass, and front bulging out and
projecting over the pathway, the old house looked as
if it were nodding in its sleep. Indeed, it needed no
very great stretch of fancy to detect in it other resem-
blances to humanity. The bricks of which it was built
had originally been a deep dark red, but had grown
yellow and discolored like an old man's skin; the sturdy
timbers had decayed like teeth; and here and there
the ivy, like a warm garment to comfort it in its age,
wrapt its green leaves closely round the time-worn
walls.
It was a hale and hearty age though, still ; and in
the summer or autumn evenings, when the glow of the
setting sun fell upon the oak and chestnut trees of the
adjacent forest, the old house, partaking of its lustre,
seemed their fit companion, and to have many good
years of life in him yet.
The evening with which we have to do, was neither
a summer nor an autumn one, but the twilight of a day
in March, when the wind howled dismally among the
bare branches of the trees, and rumbling in the wide
chimneys and driving the rain against the windows of
14
BABNABY rudgf..
the Maypole Inn, gave such of its frequenters as chanced
to he there at the moment an undeniable reason for pro-
longing their stay, and caused the landlord to prophesy
that the night would certainly clear at eleven o'clock
precisely, — which by a remarkable coincidence was the
hour at which he always closed his house.
The name of him upon whom the spirit of prophecy
thus descended was John Willet, a burly, large-headed
man with a fat face, which betokened profound obstinacy
and slowness of apprehension, combined with a very
strong reliance upon his own merits. It was John Wil-
let's ordinary boast in his more placid moods that if he
were slow he was sure; which assertion could, in one
sense at least, be by no means gainsaid, seeing that he
was in everything unquestionably the reverse of fast,
and withal one of the most dogged and positive fellows
in existence — always sure that what he thought or said
or did was right, and holding it as a thing quite settled
and ordained by the laws of nature and Providence, that
anybody who said or did or thought otherwise must be
inevitably and of necessity wrong.
Mr. Willet walked slowly up to the window, flattened
his fat nose against the cold glass, and shading his eyes
that his sight might not be affected by the ruddy glow
of the fire, looked abroad. Then he walked slowly
back to his old seat in the chimoey-corner, and, com-
posing himself in it with a slight shiver, such as a
man might give way to and so acquire an additional
relish for the warm blaze, said, looking round upon his
guests: —
" It'll clear at eleven o'clock. No sooner and no
later. Not before and not arterwards."
" How do you make out that ? " said a little man in
BARNABY RUDGF..
15
the opposite corner. " The moon is past the full, and
she rises at nine."
John looked sedately and solemnly at his questioner
until he had brought his mind to bear upon the whole
of his observation, and then made answer, in a tone
which seemed to imply that the moon was peculiarly his
business and nobody else's: —
" Never you mind about the moon. Don't you trouble
yourself about her. You let the moon alone, and I'll let
you alone."
" No offence I hope ? " said the little man.
Again John waited leisurely until the observation had
thoroughly penetrated to his brain, and then replying
"No offence as yet" applied a light to his pipe and
smoked in placid silence; now and then casting a side-
long look at a man wrapped in a loose riding-coat
with huge cuffs ornamented with tarnished silver lace
and large metal buttons, who sat apart from the regu-
lar frequenters of the house, and wearing a hat flap-
ped over his face, which was still further shaded by
the hand on which his forehead rested, looked unsocia-
ble enough.
There was another guest, who sat, booted and spurred,
at some distance from the fire also, and whose thoughts
— to judge from his folded arms and knitted brows,
and from the untasted liquor before him — were occu-
pied with other matters than the topics under discus-
sion or the persons who discussed them. This was a
young man of about eight-and-twenty, rather above the
middle height, and though of a somewhat slight figure,
gracefully and strongly made. He wore his own dark
hair, and was accoutred in a riding-dress, which, to-
gether with his large boots (resembling in shape and
16
BARNABY RUDGF..
fashion those worn by our Life Guardsmen at the pros-
ent day), showed indisputable traces of the bad condi-
tion of the roads. But travel-stained though be was,
he was well and even richly attired, and without being
overdressed looked a gallant gentleman.
Lying upon the table beside him, as he had carelessly
thrown them down, were a heavy riding-whip and a
slouched hat, the latter worn no doubt as being best
suited to the inclemency of the weather. There, too,
were a pair of pistols in a holster-case, and a short rid-
ing-cloak. Little of his face was visible, except the long
dark lashes which concealed his downcast eyes, but an
air of careless ease and natural gracefulness of de-
meanor pervaded the figure, and seemed to compre-
hend even these slight accessories, which were all hand-
some, and in good keeping.
Towards this young gentleman the eyes of Mr. Willet
wandered but once, and then as if in mute inquiry
whether he had observed his silent neighbor. It was
plain that John and the young gentleman had often met
before. Finding that his look was not returned, or in-
deed observed by the person to whom it was addressed,
John gradually concentrated the whole power of his eyes
into one focus, and brought it to bear upon the man in
the flapped hat, at whom he came to stare in course of
time with an intensity so remarkable, that it affected his
fireside cronies, who all, as with one accord, took their
pipes from their lips, and stared with open mouths at
the stranger likewise.
The sturdy landlord had a large pair of dull fish-like
eyes, and the little man who had hazarded the remark
about the moon (and who was the parish-clerk and bell-
ringer of Chigwell; a village hard by), had little round
BARNABY RUDGE.
17
black shiny eyes like beads; moreover this little man
wore at the knees of his rusty black breeches, and 011 his
rusty black coat, and all down his long flapped waistcoat,
little queer buttons like nothing except his eyes : but so
like them, that as they twinkled and glistened in the
light of the fire, which shone too in his bright shoe-
buckles, he seemed all eyes from head to foot, and to be
gazing with every one of them at the unknown customer.
No wonder that a man should grow restless under such
an inspection as this, to say nothing of the eyes belong-
ing to short Tom Cobb the general chandler and post-
office keeper, and long Phil Parkes the ranger, both of
whom, infected by the example of their companions, re-
garded him of the flapped hat no less attentively.
The stranger became restless; perhaps from being
exposed to this raking fire of eyes, perhaps from the
nature of his previous meditations — most probably from
the latter cause, for as he changed his position and looked
hastily round, he started to find himself the object of such
keen regard, and darted an angry and suspicious glance
at the fireside group. It had the effect of immediately
diverting all eyes to the chimney, except those of John
Willet, who finding himself, as it were, caught in the
fact, and not being (as has been already observed) of a
very ready nature, remained staring at his guest in a
particularly awkward and disconcerted manner.
"Well?" said the stranger.
Well. There was not much in well. It was not a
long speech. " I thcught you gave an order," said the
landlord, after a pause of two or three minutes for con-
sideration.
The stranger took off his hat, and disclosed the hard
features of a man of sixty or thereabouts, much weather-
von 1. 2
18
BARNABY RUDGE.
beaten and worn by time, and the naturally harsh expre
sion of which was not improved by a dark handkerehit
which was bound tightly round his head, and, while
served the purpose of a wig, shaded his forehead, ai
almost hid his eyebrows. If it were intended to conce
or divert attention from a deep gash, now healed into i
ugly seam, which when it was first inflicted must hrn
laid bare his cheek-bone, the object was but indifferent
attained, for it could scarcely fail to be noted at a glanc
His complexion was of a cadaverous hue, and he had
grizzly jagged beard of some three weeks' date. Sue
was the figure (very meanly and poorly clad) that no
rose from the seat, and stalking across the room sat dow
in a corner of the chimney, which the politeness or fea
of the little clerk very readily assigned to him.
" A highwayman !" whispered Tom Cobb to Park
the ranger.
" Do you suppose highwaymen don't dress handsom
than that ? " replied Parkes. '• It's a better business th;
you think for, Tom, and highwaymen don't need or u
to be shabby, take my word for it."
Meanwhile, the subject of their speculations had doi
due honor to the house by calling for some drink, whii
was promptly supplied by the landlord's son Joe, a broa
shouldered strapping young fellow of twenty, whom
pleased his father still to consider a little boy, and
treat accordingly. Stretching out his hands to war
them by the blazing fire, the man turned his hei
towards the company, and after running his eye sharp
over them, said in a voice well suited to his appes
ance:—
" What house is that which stands a mile or so fro
here ? "
BAKNABY BUDGE.
19
" Public-house?" said the landlord, with his usual de-
liberation.
" Public-house, father ! " exclaimed Joe, " where's the
public-house within a mile or so of the Maypole ? He
means the great house — the Warren — naturally and
of course. The old red-brick house, sir, that stands ii
its own grounds?" —
" Ay," said the stranger.
" And that fifteen or twenty years ago stood in a park
five times as broad, which with other and richer property
has bit by bit changed hands and dwindled away —
more's the pity!" pursued the young man.
" Maybe," was the reply. " But my question related
to the owner. What it has been I don't care to know,
and what it is I can see for myself."
The heir-apparent to the Maypole pressed his finger
on his lips, and glancing at the young gentleman already
noticed, who had changed his attitude when the house
was first mentioned, replied in a lower tone.
" The owner's name is Haredale, Mr. Geoffrey Hare-
dale, and " — again he glanced in the same direction as
before — " and a worthy gentleman too — hem ! "
Paying as little regard to this admonitory cough, as to
the significant gesture that had preceded it, the stranger
pursued his questioning.
" I turned out of my way coming here, and took the
footpath that crosses the grounds. Who was the young
lady that I saw entering a carriage ? His daughter ? "
" Why, how should I know, honest man ?" replied
Joe, contriving in the course of some arrangements about
the hearth, to advance close to his questioner and pluck
him by the sleeve, " I didn't see the young lady you
know. Whew ! There's the wind again — and rain —•
well it is a night!"
20
BAKNABY KUDGE.
" Rough weather indeed! " observed the strange man.
"You're used to it?" said Joe, eatching at anything
which seemed to promise a diversion of the subject.
" Pretty well," returned the other. " About the young
lady — has Mr. Haredale a daughter ? "
" No, no," said the young fellow fretfully, " he's a
single gentleman — he's — be quiet, can't you man ?
Don't you see this talk is not relished yonder ?"
Regardless of this whispered remonstrance and af-
fecting not to hear it, his tormentor provokingly con-
tinued: —
"Single men have had daughters before now. Per-
haps she may be his daughter though he is not married."
" What do you mean," said Joe, adding in an under-
tone as he approached him again, "You'll come in for it
presently, I know you will! "
" I mean no harm " — returned the traveller boldly,
" and have said none that I know of. I ask a few ques-
tions — as any stranger may, and not unnaturally —
about the inmates of a remarkable house in a neighbor-
hood which is new to me, and you are as aghast and
as disturbed as if I were talking treason against King
George. Perhaps you can tell me why, sir, for (as 1
6ay) I am a stranger, and this is Greek to me ? "
The latter observation was addressed to the obvious
cause of Joe Willet's discomposure, who had risen and
was adjusting his riding-cloak preparatory to sallying
abroad. Briefly replying that he could give him no
information, the young man beckoned to Joe, and hand-
ing him a piece of money in payment of his reckoning,
hurried out attended by young Willet himself, who tak-
ing up a candle followed to light him to the house-door.
While Joe was absent on this errand, the elder Willet
BARNAIiY RUDGE.
21
and his tliree companions continued to smoke with pro-
found gravity, and in a deep silence, each having his
eyes fixed on a huge copper boiler that was suspended
over the fire. After some time John Willet slowly shook
his head, and thereupon his friends slowly shook theirs ;
but no man withdrew his eyes from the boiler, or altered
the solemn expression of his countenance in the slightest
degree.
At length Joe returned — very talkative and concilia-
tory, as though with a strong presentiment that he was
going to be found fault with.
" Such a thing as love is ! " he said, drawing a chair
near the fire, and looking round for sympathy. " He
has set off to walk to London, — all the way to London.
His nag gone lame in riding out here this blessed after-
noon, and comfortably littered down in our stable at this
minute ; and he giving up a good hot supper and our
best bed, because Miss Haredale has gone to a masque-
rade up in town, and he has set his heart upon seeing
her! I don't think I could persuade myself to do that,
beautiful as she is, — but then I'm not in love, (at least
I don't think I am,) and that's the whole difference."
" He is in love then ? " said the stranger.
" Rather," replied Joe. " He'll never be more in love,
and may very easily be less."
" Silence, sir !" cried his father.
" What a chap you are, Joe! " said Long Parkes.
" Such a inconsiderate lad ! " murmured Tom Cobb.
" Putting himself forward and wringing the very nose
off his own father's face!" exclaimed the parish-clerk,
metaphorically.
" What have I done ? " reasoned poor Joe.
u Silence, sir!" returned his father, " what do you
22
BARNABY RUD£K.
mean by talking, when you see people that are more
than two or three times your age, sitting still and silent
and not dreaming of saying a word ?"
" Why that's the proper time for me to talk, isn't it ? "
said Joe rebelliously.
" The proper time, sir!" retorted his father, " the
proper time's no time."
" Ah to be sure!" muttered Parkes, nodding gravely
to the other two who nodded likewise, observing under
their breaths that that was the point.
" The proper time's no time, sir," repeated John Wil-
let; "when I was your age I never talked, I never
wanted to talk. I listened and improved myself, that's
what 1 did."
" And you'd find your father rather a tough customer
in argeyment, Joe, if anybody was to try and tackle
him," said Parkes.
" For the matter o' that, Phil! " observed Mr. Willet,
blowing a long, thin, spiral cloud of smoke out of the
corner of his mouth, and staring at it abstractedly as it
floated away; " For the matter o' that, Phil, argeyment
is a gift of Natur. If Natur has gifted a man with
powers of argeyment, a man has a right to make the
best of 'em and has not a right to stand on false deli-
cacy, and deny that he is so gifted ; for that is a turning
of his back on Natur, a flouting of her, a slighting of
her precious caskets, and a proving of one's self to be a
swine that isn't worth her scattering pearls before."
The landlord pausing here for a very long time, Mr.
Parkes naturally concluded that he had brought his dis-
course to an end; and therefore, turning to the young
man with some austerity, exclaimed : —
" You hear what your father says, Joe? You wouldn't
BARNABY RUDGE.
23
much like to tackle him in argeyment, I'm thinking,
air."
— "Ik,' said John Willet, turning his eyes from the
ceiling to the face of his interrupter, and uttering the
monosyllable in capitals, to apprise him that he had
put in his oar, as the vulgar say, with unbecoming and
irreverent haste ; " If, sir, Natur has fixed upon me the
gift of argeyment, why should I not own to it, and rather
glory in the same? Yes, sir, I am a. tough customer
that way. You are right, sir. My toughness has been
proved, sir, in this room many and many a time, as I
think you know ; and if you don't know," added John,
putting his pipe in his mouth again, " so much the better,
for I a'n't proud and am not going to tell you."
A general murmur from his three cronies, and a gen-
eral shaking of heads at the copper boiler, assured John
Willet that they had had good experience of his powers
and needed no further evidence to assure them of his
superiority. John smoked with a little more dignity and
surveyed them in silence.
" It's all very fine talking," muttered Joe, who had
been fidgeting in his chair with divers uneasy gestures.
" But if you mean to tell me that I'm never to open
iny lips " —
" Silence, sir! " roared his father. " No, you never
aie. When your opinion's wanted, you give it. When
you're spoke to, you speak. When your opinion's not
wanted, and you're not spoke to, don't you give an
opinion and don't you speak. The world's undergone a
nice alteration since my time, certainly. My belief is
that there a'n't any boys left — that there isn't such a
thing as a boy — that there's nothing now between a
male baby and a man — and that all the boys went
24
BARNABY RUDGE.
oqi with his blessed Majesty King George the Sec-
ond."
" That's a very true observation, always excepting the
young princes," said the parish-clerk, who, as the repre-
sentative of church and state in that company, held him-
self bound to the nicest loyalty. " If it's godly and
righteous for boys, being of the ages of boys, to be-
hare themselves like boys, then the young princes must
be boys and cannot be otherwise."
" Did you ever hear tell of mermaids, sir ? " said Mr.
Willet.
" Certainly I have," replied the clerk.
"Very good," said Mr. Willet. "According to the
constitution of mermaids, so much of a mermaid as is
not a woman must be a fish. According to the constitu-
tion of young princes, so much of a young prince (if
anything) as is not actually an angel, must be godly and
righteous. Therefore if it's becoming and godly and
righteous in the young princes (as it is at their ages)
that they should be boys, they are and must be boys, and
cannot by possibility be anything else."
This elucidation of a knotty point being received with
such marks of approval as to put John Willet into a
good-humor, he contented himself with repeating to his
son his command of silence, and addressing the stranger,
said : —
" If you had asked your questions of a grown-up per-
son — of me or any of these gentlemen — you'd have
had some satisfaction, and wouldn't have wasted breath.
Miss Haredale is Mr. Geoffrey Haredale's niece."
" Is her father alive ? " said the man carelessly.
" No," rejoined the landlord, " he is not alive, and he
is not dead " —
BARNABY RUDGE.
2d
to Not dead ! " cried the other.
" Not dead in a common sort of way," said the land-
lord.
The cronies nodded to each other, and Mr. Parkes re-
marked in an undertone, shaking his head meanwhile as
who should say, " Let no man contradict me, for I won't
believe him," that John Willet was in amazing force to-
night, and fit to tackle a Chief Justice.
The stranger suffered a short pause to elapse, and
then asked abruptly, " What do you mean ? "
" More than you. think for, friend," returned John
Willet. " Perhaps there's more meaning in them words
than you suspect."
" Perhaps there is," said the strange man, gruffly;
" but what the devil do you speak in such mysteries
for? You tell me first, that a man is not alive, nor yet
dead — then, that he's not dead in a common sort of way
— then that you mean a great deal more than I think
for. To tell you the truth, you may do that easily ; for
so far as I can make out, you mean nothing. What do
you mean, I ask again ?"
" That," returned the landlord, a little brought down
from his dignity by the stranger's surliness, " is a Maypole
story, and has been any time these four-and-twenty
years. That story is Solomon Daisy's story. It be-
longs to the house; and nobody but Solomon Daisy has
ever told it under this roof, or ever shall — that's more."
The man glanced at the parish-clerk, whose air of
consciousness and importance plainly betokened him to
be the person referred to, and, observing that he had
taken his pipe from his lips, after a very long whiff to keep
it alight, and was evidently about to tell his story without
further solicitation, gathered his large coat about him,
2G
BARNABY RUDGE.
and shrinking farther back was almost lost in the gloom
of the spacious chimney-corner, except when the flame,
struggling from under a great faggot whose weight al-
most crushed it for the time, shot upward with a strong
and sudden glare, and illumining his figure for a mo-
ment, seemed afterwards to cast it into deeper obscu-
rity than before.
By this flickering light, which made the old room, with
its heavy timbers and panelled walls, look as if it were
built of polished ebony — the wind roaring and howling
without, now rattling the latch and jcreaking the hinges
of the stout oaken door, and now driving at the case-
ment as though it would beat it in — by this light, and
under circumstances so auspicious, Solomon Daisy began
his tale: —
" It was Mr. Reuben Haredale, Mr. Geoffrey's elder
brother" —
Here he came to a dead stop, and made so long a
pause that even John Willet grew impatient and asked
why he did not proceed.
" Cobb," said Solomon Daisy, dropping his voice and
appealing to the post-office keeper; " what day of the
month is this?"
" The nineteenth."
"Of March," said the clerk, bending forward, "the
nineteenth of March; that's very strange."
In a low voice they all acquiesced, and Solomon went
on: —
" It was Mr. Reuben Haredale, Mr. Geoffrey's elder
brother, that twenty-two years ago was the owner of the
Warren, which, as Joe has said—not that you remem-
ber it, Joe, for a boy like you can't do that, but because
you have often heard me say so — was then a much
BARNABY RUDGE.
27
larger and better place, and a much more valuable prop-
erty than it is now. His lady was lately dead, and he
was left with one child—the Miss Haredale you have
been inquiring about—who was then scarcely a year
old."
Although the speaker addressed himself to the man
who had shown so much curiosity about this same family,
and made a pause here as if expecting some exclamation
of surprise or encouragement, the latter made no re-
mark, nor gave any indication that he heard or was in- ♦
terested in what was said. Solomon therefore turned to
his old companions, whose noses were brightly illumi-
nated by the deep red glow from the bowls of their
pipes; assured, by long experience, of their attention,
and resolved to show his sense of such indecent be-
havior.
" Mr. Haredale," said Solomon, turning his back upon
the strange man, " left this place when his lady died,
feeling it lonely like, and went up to London, where he
stopped some months ; but finding that place as lonely
as this — as I suppose and have always heard say —
he suddenly came back again with his little girl to the
Warren, bringing with him besides, that day, only two
women servants, and his steward, and a gardener."
Mr. Daisy stopped to take a whiff at his pipe, which
was going out, and then proceeded — at first in a snuf-
fling tone, occasioned by keen enjoyment of the tobaccc
and strong pulling at the pipe, and afterwards with in-
creasing distinctness: —
—" Bringing with him two women servants, and his
steward and a gardener. The rest stopped behind up
m London, and were to follow next day. It happened
that that night, an old gentleman who lived at Chigwell-
28
BARNABY RUDGE
row, and had long been poorly, deceased, and an order
came to me at half after twelve o'clock at night to go
and toll the passing-bell."
There was a movement in the little group of listeners,
sufficiently indicative of the strong repugnance any one
of them would have felt, to have turned out at such a
time upon such an errand. The clerk felt and under-
stood it, and pursued his theme accordingly: —
" It was a dreary thing, especially as the grave-digger
was laid up in his bed, from long working in a damp soil
and sitting down to take his dinner on cold tombstones,
and I was consequently under obligations to go alone,
for it was too late to hope to get any other companion.
However, I wasn't unprepared for it; as the old gen-
tleman had often made it a request that the bell should
be tolled as soon as possible after the breath was out
of his body, and he had been expected to go for some
days. I put as good a face upon it as I could, and
muffling myself up (for it was mortal cold), started out
with a lighted lantern in one hand and the key of the
church in the other."
At this point of the narrative, the dress of the strange
man rustled as if he had turned himself to hear more
distinctly. Slightly pointing over his shoulder, Solomon
elevated his eyebrows and nodded a silent inquiry to
Joe whether this was the case. Joe shaded his eyes
with his hand and peered into the corner, but could
make out nothing, and so shook his head.
" It was just such a night as this: blowing a hurri-
cane, raining heavily, and very dark — I >often think
now, darker than I ever saw it before or since; that
may be my fancy, but the houses were all close shut
and the folks in doors, and perhaps there is only one
BARNABY RUDGE.
29
other man who knows how dark it really was. I got
into the church, chained the door back so that it should
keep ajar — for, to tell the truth, I didn't like to be shut
in there alone — and putting my lantern on the stone
seat in the little corner where the bell-rope is, sat down
beside it to trim the candle.
" I sat down to trim the candle, and when I had done so,
I could not persuade myself to get up again and go about
my work. I don't know how it was, but I thought of
all the ghost stories I had ever heard, even those that
I had heard when I was a boy at school, and had for-
gotten long ago; and they didn't come into my mind
one after another, but all crowding at once, like. I
recollected one story there was in the village, how
that on a certain night in the year (it might be that
very night for anything I knew), all the dead people
came out of the ground and sat at the heads of their
own graves till morning. This made me think how
many people I had known, were buried between the
church-door and the church-yard gate, and what a dread-
ful thing it would be to have to pass among them and
know them again, so earthy and unlike themselves. I
had known all the niches and arches in the church from
a child; still, I couldn't persuade myself that those were
their natural shadows which I saw on the pavement, but
felt sure there were some ugly figures hiding among 'em
and peeping out. Thinking on in this way, I began to
think of the old gentleman who was just dead, and I
could have sworn, as I looked up the dark chancel, that
I saw him in his usual place, wrapping his shroud about
him and shivering as if he felt it cold. All this time
I sat listening and listening, and hardly dared to breathe.
At length 1 started up and took the bell-rope in my
30
BARNABY RUDGE.
hands. At that minute there rang — not that bell, far
I had hardly touched the rope — but another !
" I heard the ringing of another bell, and a deep
bell too, plainly. It was only for an instant, and even
then the wind carried the sound away, but I heard it.
I listened for a long time, but it rang no more. I had
heard of corpse candles, and at last I persuaded myself
that this must be a corpse bell tolling of itself at mid-
night for the dead. I tolled my bell — how, or how
long, I don't know — and ran home to bed as fast a3
I could touch the ground.
" I was up early next morning after a restless night,
and told the story to my neighbors. Some were serious
and some made light of it: I don't think anybody be-
lieved it real. But, that morning, Mr. Reuben Hare-
dale was found murdered in his bedchamber; and in
his hand was a piece of the cord attached to an alarm-
bell outside the roof, which hung in his room and had
been cut asunder, no doubt by the murderer, when be
seized it.
" That was the bell I heard.
•• A bureau was found opened, and a cash-box, which
Mr. Haredale had brought down that day, and was sup-
posed to contain a large sum of money, was gone. The
steward and gardener were both missing and both sus-
pected for a long time, but they were never 'found,
though hunted far and wide. And far enough they
might have looked for poor Mr. Rudge the steward,
whose body — scarcely to be recognized by his clothes
and the watch and ring he wore — was found months
afterwards, at the bottom of a piece of water in the
grounds, with a deep gash in the breast where he had
been stabbed with a knife. He was only partly dressed;
liARNABY RUDGE.
31
and people all agreed that he had been sitting up read-
ing in his own room, where there were many traces of
blood, and was suddenly fallen upon and killed before
his master.
" Everybody now knew that the gardener must be
the murderer, and though he has never been heard of
from that time to this, he will be, mark my words. The
crime was committed this day two-and-twenty years —
on the nineteenth of March, one thousand seven hun-
dred and fifty-three. On the nineteenth of March in
M>me year — no matter when — I know it, I am sure
of it, for we have always, in some strange way or other,
been brought back to the subject on that day ever since
— on the nineteenth of March in some year, sooner or
later, that man will be discovered."
32
BARNABY BUDGE
CHAPTER H. j
" A strange story!" said the man who had been
the cause of the narration. — " Stranger still if it comes
about as you predict. Is that all ?"
A question so unexpected, nettled Solomon Daisy not
a little. By dint of relating the story very often, and
ornamenting it (according to village report) with a few
flourishes suggested by the various hearers from time
to time, he had come by degrees to tell it with great
effect; and " is that all ?" after the climax, was not
what he was accustomed to.
" Is that all ? " he repeated, " yes, that's all, sir. And
enough too, I think."
" I think so too. My horse, young man ! He is but
a hack hired from a road-side posting-house, but he must
carry me to London to-night."
" To-night! " said Joe.
" To-night," returned the other. " What do you stare
at ? This tavern would seem to be a house-of-call for
all the gaping idlers of the neighborhood!"
At this remark, which evidently had reference to the
scrutiny he had undergone, as mentioned in the forego-
ing chapter, the eyes of John Willet and his friends were
diverted with marvellous rapidity to the copper boiler
again. Not so with Joe, who, being a mettlesome fellow,
returned the stranger's angry glance with a steady look,
and rejoined: —
BARNABY RUDGE.
33
" It is not a very bold thing to wonder at your going
on to-night. Surely you have been asked such a harm-
less question in an inn before, and in better weather than
this. I thought you mightn't know the way, as you seem
strange to this part."
" The way " — repeated the other, irritably.
" Yes. Do you know it ? "
" I'll — humph ! — I'll find it," replied the man, wav-
ing his hand and turning on his heel. " Landlord, take
the reckoning here."
John Willet did as he was desired; for on that point
he was seldom slow, except in the particulars of giving
change, and testing the goodness of any piece of coin
that was proffered to him, by the application of his
teeth or his tongue, or some other test, or, in doubtful
cases, by a long series of tests terminating in its rejec-
tion. The guest then wrapped his garments about him
so as to shelter himself as effectually as he could from
the rough weather, and without any word or sign of
farewell betook himself to the stable-yard. Here Joe
(who had left the room on the conclusion of their
short dialogue) was protecting himself and the horse
from the rain under the shelter of an old pent-house
roof.
" He's pretty much of my opinion," said Joe, patting
the horse upon the neck. " I'll wager that your stop-
ping hers to-night would please him better than it would
please me."
" He and I are of different opinions, as we have
been more than once on our way here," was the short
reply.
" So I was thinking before you came out, for he has
felt your spurs, poor beast."
VOL. i *3
BARNABY RUD6E.
The-stranger adjusted his coat-collar about his face,
and made no answer.
" You'll know me again, I see," he said, marking the
young fellow's earnest gaze when he had sprung into the
saddle.
" The man's worth knowing, master, who travels a
road he don't know, mounted on a jaded horse, and
leaves good quarters to do it on such a night as
this."
" You have sharp eyes and a sharp tongue I find/'
" Both I hope by nature, but the last grows rusty
sometimes for want of using."
" Use the first less too, and keep their sharpness for
your sweethearts, boy," said the man.
So saying he shook his hand from the bridle, struck
him roughly on the head with the butt end of his
whip, and galloped away; dashing through the mud
and darkness with a hq^dlong speed, which few badly
mounted horsemen would have cared to venture, even
had they been thoroughly acquainted with the coun-
try; and which, to one who knew nothing of the way
he rode, was attended at every step with great hazard
and danger.
The roads, even within twelve miles of London, were
at that time ill-paved, seldom repaired, and very badly
made. The way this rider traversed had been ploughed
up by the wheels of heavy wagons, and rendered rotten
by the frosts and thaws of the preceding winter, or pos-
sibly of many winters. Great holes and gaps had been
worn into the soil, which, being now filled with water
from the late rains, were not easily distinguishable even
by day ; and a plunge into any one of them might have
brought down a surer-footed horse thau the poor beast
BARNABY RUDGE.
35
now urged forward to the utmost extent of hjs powers.
Sharp flints and stones rolled from under his hoofs con-
tinually ; the rider could scarcely see beyond, the ani-
mal'sdifchd, or farther on either side than his own arm
would have extended. At that time, too, all the roads
in the neighborhood of the metropolis were infested by
footpads or highwaymen, and it was a night, of all others,
in which any evil-disposed person of this class might
have pursued his unlawful calling with little fear of
detection.
Still, the traveller dashed forward at the same reck-
less pace, regardless alike of the dirt and wet which flew
about his head, the profound darkness of the night, and
the probability of encountering some desperate charac-
ters abroad. At every turn and angle, even where a
deviation from the direct course might have been least
expected, and could not possibly be seen until he was
close upon it, he guided the bridle with an unerring
hand, and kept the middle of the road. Thus he sped
onward, raising himself in the stirrups, leaning his body
forward, until it almost touched the horse's neck, and
flourishing his heavy whip above his head with the fer-
vor of a madman.
There are times when, the elements being in unusual
commotion, those who are bent on daring enterprises, or
agitated by great thoughts, whether of good or evil, feel
a mysterious sympathy with the tumult of nature, and are
roused into corresponding violence. In the midst ST thun-
der, lightning, and storm, many tremendous deeds have
been committed; men, self-possessed before, have given
» sudden loose to passions they could no longer control.
The demons of wrath and despair have striven to emu-
late those who ride the whirlwind and direct the storm :
36
BARNABY RUDGE.
and man, lashed into madness with the roaring winds
and boiling waters, has become for the time as wild and
merciless as the elements themselves.
Whether the traveller was possessed by thoughtsi Which
the fury of the night had heated and stimulated inta a
quicker current, or was merely impelled by some strong
motive to reach his journey's end, on he swept more like
a hunted phantom than a man, nor checked his pace
until, arriving at some cross roads, one of which led by
a longer route to the place whence he had lately started,
he bore down so suddenly upon a vehicle which was com-
ing towards him, that in the effort to avoid it he wellnigh
pulled his horse upon his haunches, and narrowly escaped
being thrown.
" Yoho ! " cried the voice of a man. " What's that ?
who goes there ? "
"A friend! " replied the traveller.
" A friend ! " repeated the voice. " Who calls him-
self a friend and rides like that, abusing Heaven's gifts
in the shape of horseflesh, and endangering, not only his
own neck (which might be no great matter) but the
necks of other people?"
" You have a lantern there, I see," said the traveller,
dismounting, " lend it me for a moment. You have
wounded my horse, I think, with your shaft or wheel."
" Wounded him!" cried the other, " if I haven't killed
him, it's no fault of yours. What do you mean by gal-
loping Jflong the king's highway like that, eh ? "
" Give me the light," returned the traveller, snatching
it from his hand, "and don't ask idle questions of a man
who is in no mood for talking."
"If you had said you were in no mood for talking
before, I should perhaps have been in no mood for
BABNABY RUDGE.
37
lighting," said the voice. " Hows'ever as it's the poor
horse that's damaged and not you, one of you is wel-
come to the light at all events — but it's not the crusty
one."
The traveller returned no answer to this speech, but
holding the light near to his panting and reeking beast,
examined him in limb and carcass. Meanwhile the
other man sat very composedly in his vehicle, which
was a kind of chaise with a depository for a large bag
of tools, and watched his proceedings with a careful
eye.
The looker-on was a round, red-faced, sturdy yeoman,
with a double chin, and a voice husky with good living,
good sleeping, good humor, and good health. He was
past the prime of life, but Father Time is not always a
hard parent, and, though he tarries for none of his chil-
dren, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have
used him well; making them old men and women inex-
orably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young
and in full vigor. With such people the gray head is
but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving
them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the
quiet calendar of a well-spent life.
The person whom the traveller had so abruptly en-
countered was of this kind: bluff, hale, hearty, and in a
green old age : at peace with himself, and evidently dis-
posed to be so with all the world. Although muffled up
' in divers coats and handkerchiefs — one of which passed
over his crown, and tied in a convenient crease of his
double chin, secured his three-cornered hat and bob-wig
from blowing off his head — there was no disguising his
plump and comfortable figure ; neither did certain dirty
Inger-marks upon his face give it any other than an odd
88
BARNABY RUDGE.
and comical expression, through which its natural good-
humor shone with undiminished lustre.
" He is not hurt," said the traveller at length, raising
his head and the lantern together.
"You have found that out at last, have you?" rejoined
the old man. " My eyes have seen more light than
yours, but I wouldn't change with you."
" What do you mean ? "
" Mean ! I could have told you he wasn't hurt, five
minutes ago. Give me the light, friend ; ride forward
at a gentler pace ; and good-night."
In handing up the lantern, the man necessarily cast
its rays full on the speaker's face. Their eyes met at
the instant. He suddenly dropped it and crushed it with
his foot.
" Did you never see a locksmith before, that you start
as if you had come upon a ghost ? " cried the old man in
the chaise, " or is this," he added hastily, thrusting his
hand into the tool basket and drawing out a hammer, " a
scheme for robbing me ? I know these roads, friend.
When I travel them, I carry nothing but a few shillings,
and not a crown's worth of them. I tell you plainly, to
save us both trouble, that there's nothing to be got from
me but a pretty stout arm considering my years, and this
tool, which, mayhap from long acquaintance with, I can
use pretty briskly. You shall not have it all your own
way, I promise you, if you play at that game." Witl
these words he stood upon the defensive.
" I am not what you take me for, Gabriel Varden,"
replied the other.
" Then what and who are you ? " returned the lock-
smith. " You know my name it seems. Let me know
yours."
BARNABY RUDGE.
39
" I have not gained the information from any confi-
dence of yours, but from the inscription on your cart,
which tells it to all the town," replied the traveller.
" You had better eyes for that than you had for your
horse then," said Yarden, descending nimbly from his
chaise; "Who are you? Let me see your face."
While the locksmith alighted, the traveller had re-
gained his saddle, from which he now confronted the old
man, who, moving as the horse moved in dialing under
the tightened rein, kept close beside him.
" Let me see your face, I say."
" Stand off!"
" No masquerading tricks," said the locksmith, " and
tales at the club to-morrow, how Gabriel Yarden was
frightened by a surly voice and a dark night. Stand —
let me see your face."
Finding that further resistance would only involve
him in a personal struggle with an antagonist by no
means to be despised, the traveller threw back his coat,
and stooping down looked steadily at the locksmith.
Perhaps two men more powerfully contrasted, never
opposed each other face to face. The ruddy features of
the locksmith so set off and heightened the excessive
paleness of the man on horseback, that he looked like a
bloodless ghost, while the moisture, which hard riding
had brought out upon his skin, hung there in dark and
heavy drops, like dews of agony and death. The coun-
tcnance of the old locksmith was lighted up with the
smile of one expecting to detect in this unpromising
stranger some latent roguery of eye or lip, which should
reveal a familiar person in that arch disguise, and spoil
his jest. The face of the other, sullen and fierce, but
shrinking too, was that of a man who stood at bay;
40
BARNABY RUDGE.
while his firmly closed jaws, his puckered mouth, and
more than all a certain stealthy motion of the hand
within his breast, seemed to announce a desperate pur-
pose very foreign to acting, or child's play.
Thus they regarded each other for some time, in
silence.
" Humph !" he said when he had scanned his features;
" 1 don't know yoi:."
" Don't desire to ?" — returned the other, muffling
himself as before.
" I doi;'t," said Gabriel; " to be plain with you, friend,
you don't ^arry in your countenance a letter of recom-
mendation."
" It's not my wish," said the traveller. " My humor
is to be avoided."
"Well," said the locksmith bluntly, "I think you'll
have your humor."
" I will, at any cost," rejoined the traveller. " In
proof of it, lay this to heart — that you were never in
such peril of your life as you have been within these few
moments ; when you are within five minutes of breath-
ing your last, you will not be nearer death than you
have been to-night!"
" Ay ! " said the sturdy locksmith.
" Ay! and a violent death."
" From whose hand ? "
" From mine," replied the traveller.
With that he pat spurs to his horse, and rode away
at first plashing heavily through the mire at a smart trot,
but gradually increasing in speed until the last sound of
his horse's hoofs died away upon the wind ; when he
was again hurrying on at the same furious gallop, which
had been his pace when the locksmith first encountered
him.
BABNABY BUDGE.
41
Gabriel Varden remained standing in the road with
the broken lantern in his hand, listening in stupefied
silence until no sound reached his ear but the moaning
of the wind, and the fast-falling rain; when he struck
himself one or two smart blows in the breast by way of
rousing himself, and broke into an exclamation of sur-
prise.
" What in the name of wonder can this fellow be! a
madman? a highwayman? a cutthroat? If he had not
scoured off so fast, we'd have seen who was in most
danger, he or I. I never nearer death than I have been
to-night! I hope I may be no nearer to it for a score
of years to come — if so, I'll be content to be no farther
from it. My stars ! — a pretty brag this to a stout man
— pooh, pooh !"
Gabriel resumed his seat, and looked wistfully up the
road by which the traveller had come ; murmuring in a
half whisper: —
" The Maypole — two miles to the Maypole. I came
the other road from the Warren after a long day's work
at locks and bells, on purpose that I should not come by
the Maypole and break my promise to Martha by took-
ing in — there's resolution ! It would be dangerous to
go on to London without a light; and it's four miles, and
a good half mile besides, to the Halfway-House; and
between this and that is the very place where one needs
a light most. Two miles to the Maypole! I told
Martha I wouldn't; I said I wouldn't, and I didn't —
there's resolution !"
Repeating these two last words very often, as if to com-
pensate for the little resolution he was going to show by
piquing himself on the great resolution he had shown,
Gabriel Varden quietly turned back, determining to
42
BARNABY RUDGE.
get a light at the Maypole, and to take nothing but a
light.
When he got to the Maypole, however, and Joe, re-
sponding to his well-known hail, came running out to
the horse's head, leaving the door open behind him, and
disclosing a delicious perspective of warmth and bright-
ness — when the ruddy gleam of the fire, streaming
through the old red curtains of the common room,
seemed to bring with it, as part of itself, a pleasant hum
of voices, and a fragrant odor of steaming grog and rare
tobacco, all steeped as it were in the cheerful glow —
when the shadows, flitting across the curtain, showed
that those inside had risen from their snug seats, and
were making room in the snuggest corner (how well he
knew that corner!) for the honest locksmith, and a
broad glare, suddenly streaming up, bespoke the good-
ness of the crackling log from which a brilliant train of
sparks was doubtless at that moment whirling up the
chimney in honor of his coming — when, superadded to
these enticements, there stole upon him from the distant
kitchen a gentle sound of frying, with a musical clatter
of plates and dishes, and a savory smell that made even
the boisterous wind a perfume — Gabriel felt his firm-
ness oozing rapidly away. He tried to look stoically at
the tavern, but his features would relax into a look of
fondness. He turned his head the other way, and the
cold black country seemed to frown him off, and drive
him for a refuge into its hospitable arms.
"The merciful man, Joe," said the locksmith, "is
merciful to his beast. I'll get out for a little while."
" And how natural it was to get out And how un-
natural it sftemed for a sober man to be plodding wearily
along through miry roads, encountering the rude buffets
BARNABY RUDGE.
48
of the wind and pelting of the rain, when there was a
clean floor covered with crisp white sand, a well-swept
hearth, a blazing fire, a table decorated with white cloth,
bright pewter flagons, and other tempting preparations
for a well-cooked meal — when there were these things,
and company disposed to make the most of them, al
ready to his hand and entreating him to enjoyment!
*4
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER III.
Sucn were the locksmith's thoughts When first seated
in the snug corner, and slowly recovering from a pleas-
nut defect of vision — pleasant, because occasioned by
the wind blowing in his eyes — which made it a matter
of sound policy and duty to himself, that he should take
refuge from the weather, and tempted him, for the same
reason, to aggravate a slight cough, and declare he felt
but poorly. Such were still his thoughts more than a
full hour afterwards, when, supper over, he still sat with
shining jovial face in the same warm nook, listening to
the cricket-like chirrup of little Solomon Daisy, and bear-
ing no unimportant or slightly respected part in the
social gossip round the Maypole fire.
" I wish he may be an honest man, that's all," said
Solomon, winding up a variety of speculations relative
to the stranger, concerning whom Gabriel had compared
notes with the company, and so raised a grave discus-
sion; "I wish he may be an honest man."
" So we all do, I suppose, don't we ? " observed the
locksmith.
"I don't," said Joe.
"No!" cried Gabriel.
" No. He struck me with his whip, the coward, when
he was mounted and I afoot, and I should be better
pleased that he turned out what I think him."
" And what may that be, Joe ? r
BARNABY BUDGE.
45
" No good, Mr. Varden. You may shake your head,
father, but I say no good, and will say no good, and
I would say no good a hundred times over, if that
would bring him back to have the drubbing he de-
Berves."
" Hold your tongue, sir," said John Willet.
" I won't, father. It's all along of you that he ven-
tured to do what he did. Seeing me treated like a
child, and put down like a fool, he plucks up a heart
and has a fling at a fellow that he thinks — and may
well think too — hasn't a grain of spirit. But he's mis-
taken, as I'll show him, and as I'll show all of you
before long."
" Does the boy know what he's a-saying of!" cried
the astonished John Willet.
" Father," returned Joe, " I know what I say and
mean, well — better than you do when you hear me.
I can bear with you, but I cannot bear the contempt
that your treating me in the way you do, brings upon
me from others every day. Look at other young men
of my age. Have they no liberty, no will, no right to
speak ? Are they obliged to sit mumchance, and to be
ordered about till they are the laughing-stock of young
and old ? I am a byword all over Chigwell, and I
say — and it's fairer my saying so now, than waiting till
you are dead, and I have got your money — I say, that
before long I shall be driven to break such bounds, and
that when I do, it won't be me that you'll have to blame,
but your own self, and no other."
John Willet was so amazed by the exasperation and
boldness of his hopeful son, that he sat as one bewil-
dered, staring in a ludicrous manner at the boiler, and
endeavoring, but quite ineffectually, to collect his tardy
46
BAENABT BUDGE.
thoughts, and invent an answer. The guests, scarcely
less disturbed, were equally at a loss; and at length,
with a variety of muttered, half-expressed condolences,
and pieces of advice, rose to depart; being at the same
time slightly muddled with liquor.
The honest locksmith alone addressed a few words
of coherent and sensible advice to both parties, urging
John Willet to remember that Joe was nearly arrived
at man's estate, and should not be ruled with too tight
a hand, and exhorting Joe himself to bear with his
father's caprices, and rather endeavor to turn them
aside by temperate remonstrance than by ill-timed
rebellion. This advice was received as such advice
usually is. On John Willet it made almost as much
impression as on the sign outside the door, while Joe,
who took it in the best part, avowed himself more
obliged than he could well express, but politely intimated
his intention nevertheless of taking his own course un-
influenced by anybody.
" You have always been a very good friend to me,
Mr. Varden," he said, as they stood without, in the
porch, and the locksmith was equipping himself for his
journey home; " I take it very kind of you to say all
this, but the time's nearly come when the Maypole and
I must part company."
" Roving stones gather no moss, Joe," said Gabriel.
"Nor mile-stones much," replied Joe. "I'm little
hotter than one here, and see as much of the world."
" Then, what would you do, Joe ? " pursued the lock-
smith, stroking his chin reflectively. " What could you
be ? where could you go you see ? "
" I must trust to chance, Mr. Varden."
" A bad thing to trust to, Joe. I don't like it. I
BARNABY RUDGE.
47
always tell my girl when we talk about a husband for
her, never to trust to chance, but to make sure before-
hand that she has a good man and true, and then chance
will neither make her nor break her. What are you
fidgeting about there, Joe ? Nothing gone in the bar-
ness I hope ? "
" No, no," said Joe—finding, however, something very
engrossing to do in the way of strapping and buckling-—
" Miss Dolly quite well ? " .
" Hearty, thankye. She looks pretty enough to be well,
and good too."
" She's always both, sir " —
" So she is, thank God!"
" I hope," said Joe after some hesitation, " that you
won't tell this story against me — this of my having
been beat like the boy they'd make of me—at all
events, till I have met this man again and settled the
account. It'll be a better story then."
"Why who should I tell it to?" returned Gabriel.
" They know it here, and I'm not likely to come across
anybody else who would care about it."
" That's true enough," said the young fellow with a
sigh. " I quite forgot that. Yes, that's true!"
So saying, he raised his face, which was very red, —
no doubt from the exertion of strapping and buckling as
aforesaid, — and giving the reins to the old man, who
had by this time taken his seat, sighed again and bade
him good-night.
" Good-night!" cried Gabriel. " Now think better of
what we have just been speaking of, and don't be rash,
there's a good fellow! I have an interest in you, and
wouldn't have you cast yourself away. Good-night! "
Returning his cheery farewell with cordial good-will,
/
48 BARNABY RUD6E.
Joe Willet lingered until the sound of wheels ceased to
vibrate in his ears, and then shaking his head mourn-
fully, reentered the house.
Gabriel Yarden went his way towards London, think-
ing of a great many things, and most of all of flaming
terms in which to relate his adventure, and so account
satisfactorily to Mrs. Varden for visiting the Maypole,
despite certain solemn covenants between himself and
that lady. Thinking begets, not only thought, but drow-
siness occasionally, and the more the locksmith thought,
the more sleepy he became.
A man maybe very sober—or at least firmly set
upon his legs on that neutral ground which lies between
the confines of perfect sobriety and slight tipsiness —
and yet feel a strong tendency to mingle up present cir-
cumstances with others which have no manner of con-
nection with them ; to confound all consideration of per-
sons, things, times, and places; and to jumble his dis-
jointed thoughts together in a kind of mental kaleido-
scope, producing combinations as unexpected as they are
transitory. This was Gabriel Varden's state, as, nod-
ding in his dog sleep, and leaving his horse to pursue a
road with which he was well acquainted, he got over the
ground unconsciously, and drew nearer and nearer home.
He had roused himself once, when the horse stopped until
the turnpike gate was opened, and had cried a lusty
" good-night !" to the toll-keeper; but then he awoke
out of a dream about picking a lock in the stomach of
the Great Mogul, and even when he did wake, mixed
up the turnpike man with his mother-in-law who had
been dead twenty years. It is not surprising, there-
fore, that he soon relapsed, and jogged heavily along,
quite insensible to his progress
BAENABY RUDGE.
49
And, now, he approached the great city, which lay
outstretched before him like a dark shadow on the
ground, reddening the sluggish air with a deep dull
light, that told of labyrinths of public ways and shops,
and swarms of busy people. Approaching nearer and
nearer yet, this halo began to fade, and the causes
which produced it slowly to develop themselves. Long
lines of poorly lighted streets might be faintly traced,
with here and there a lighter spot, where lamps were
clustered about a square or market, or round some great
building; after a time these grew more distinct, and the
lamps themselves were visible; slight yellow specks, that
seemed to be rapidly snuffed out, one by one, as inter-
vening obstacles hid them from the sight. Then, sounds
arose — the striking of church clocks, the distant bark
of dogs, the hum of traffic in the streets; then outlines
might be traced — tall steeples looming in the air and
piles of unequal roofs oppressed by chimneys ; then, the
noise swelled into a louder sound, and forms grew more
distinct and numerous still, and London — visible in the
darkness by its own faint light, and not by that of
Heaven — was at hand.
The locksmith, however, all unconscious of its near
vicinity, still jogged on, half sleeping and half waking,
when a loud cry at no great distance ahead, roused
him with a start.
For a moment or two he looked about him like a man
who had been transported to some strange country in his
sleep, but soon recognizing familiar objects, rubbed his
eyes lazily, and might have relapsed again, but that the
cry was repeated—not once or twice or thrice, but many
times, and each time, if possible, with increased vehe-
mence. Thoroughly aroused, Gabriel, who was a bold
VOL. i. *4
50
BARNABY RUDGE.
man and not easily daunted, made straight to the spot,
urging on his stout little horse as if for life or death,
The matter indeed looked sufficiently serious, for, com-
ing to the place whence the cries had proceeded, he
descried the figure of a man extended in an apparently
lifeless state upon the pathway, and, hovering round him
another person with a torch in his hand, which he waved
in the air with a wild impatience, redoubling meanwhile
those cries for help which had brought the locksmith to
the spot.
" What's here to do ?" said the old man, alighting.
" How's this — what — Barnaby ? "
The bearer of the torch shook his long loose hair back
from his eyes, and thrusting his face eagerly into that of
the locksmith, fixed upon him a look which told his his-
tory at once.
" You know me, Barnaby ? " said Varden.
He nodded — not once or twice, but a score of times,
and that with a fantastic exaggeration which would have
kept his head in motion for an hour, but that the lock-
smith held up his finger, and fixing his eye sternly upon
him caused him to desist; then pointed to the body with
an inquiring look.
" There's blood upon him," said Barnaby with a shud-
der. " It makes me sick."
" How came it there ? " demanded Yarden.
" Steel, steel, steel!" he replied fiercely, imitating with
his hand the thrust of a sword.
" Is he robbed ? " said the locksmith.
Barnaby caught him by the arm, and nodded " Yes;"
then pointed towards the city.
"Oh! said the old man, bending over the body and
looking round as he spoke into Barnaby's pale face,
BARNABY RUDGE.
51
strangely lighted up by something which was not intel-
leet. " The robber made off that way, did he ? Well,
well, never mind that just now. Hold your torch this
way — a little farther off—so. Now stand quiet, while
I try to see what harm is done."
With these words, he applied himself to a closer ex
amination of the prostrate form, while Barnaby, holding
the torch as he had been directed, looked on in silence,
fascinated by interest or curiosity, but repelled neverthe-
less by some strong and secret horror which convulsed
him in every nerve.
As he stood, at that moment, half shrinking back and
half bending forward, both his face and figure were full
in the strong glare of the link, and as distinctly revealed
as though it had been broad day. He was about three-
and-twenty years old, and though rather spare, of a fair
height and strong make. His hair, of which he had a
great profusion, was red, and hanging in disorder about
his face and shoulders, gave to his restless looks an ex-
pression quite unearthly — enhanced by the paleness of
his complexion, and the glassy lustre of his large pro-
truding eyes. Startling as his aspect was, the features
were good, and there was something even plaintive in his
wan and haggard aspect. But, the absence of the soul
is far more terrible in a living man than in a dead one ;
and in this unfortunate being its noblest powers were
wanting.
His dress was of green, clumsily trimmed here and
there — apparently by his own hands—with gaudy lace;
brightest where the cloth was most worn and soiled, and
poorest where it was at the best. A pair of tawdry ruf-
fles dangled at his wrists, while his throat was nearly
bare. He had ornamented his hat with a cluster of
52
BARNABY RUDGE.
peacock's feathers, but they were limp and broken, and
now trailed negligently down his back. Girt to his side
was the steel hilt of an old sword without blade or scab-
bard; and some parti-colored ends of ribbons and poor
glass toys completed the ornamental portion of his attire.
The fluttered and confused disposition of all the motley
scraps that formed his dress, bespoke, in a scarcely less
degree than his eager and unsettled manner, the disorder
of his mind, and by a grotesque contrast set off and
heightened the more impressive wildness of his face.
" Barnaby," said the locksmith, after a hasty but care-
ful inspection, " this man is not dead, but he has a wound
in his side, and is in a fainting-fit."
" I know him, I know him!" cried Barnaby, clapping
his hands.
" Know him ? " repeated the locksmith.
" Hush ! " said Barnaby, laying his fingers on his bps.
" He went out to-day a-wooing. I wouldn't for a light
guinea that he should never go a-wooing again, for, if
he did, some eyes would grow dim that are now as bright
as — see, when I talk of eyes, the stars come out!
Whose eyes are they ? If they are angels' eyes, why do
they look down here and see good men hurt, and only
wink and sparkle all the night ? "
" Now Heaven help this silly fellow," murmured the
perplexed locksmith, "can he know this gentleman?
His mother's house is not far off; I had better see if
she can tell me who he is. Barnaby, my man, help
me to put him in the chaise, and we'll ride home to-
gether."
" I can't touch him ! " cried the idiot falling back, and
shuddering as with a strong spasm ; " he's bloody! "
«It's in his nature I know," muttered the locksmith,
BARNABY RUDGE.
" it's cruel to ask him, but I must have help. Barnaby
— good Barnaby — dear Barnaby — if you know this
gentleman, for the sake of his life and everybody's life
that loves him, help me to raise him and lay him
down."
" Cover him then, wrap him close—don't let me see
it — smell it — hear the word. Don't speak the word —
dontt!"
" No, no, I'll not. There, you see he's covered now.
Gently. Well done, well done ! "
They placed him in the carriag? with great ease, for
Barnaby was strong and active, but all the time they
were so occupied he shivered from head to foot, and
evidently experienced an ecstasy of terror.
This accomplished, and the wounded man being
covered with Yarden's own great-coat, which he took
off for the purpose, they proceeded onward at a brisk
pace : Barnaby gayly counting the stars upon his fingers,
and Gabriel inwardly congratulating himself upon hav-
ing an adventure now, which would silence Mrs. Varden
on the subject of the Maypole, for that night, or there
was no faith in woman.
BARNABY KUDGE.
CHAPTER IV.
In the venerable suburb — it was a suburb once --*■ of
Clerkenwell, towards that part of its confines which is
nearest to the Charter House, and in one of those cool,
shady streets, of whi?h a few, widely scattered and dis-
persed, yet remain in such old parts of the metropolis,
— each tenement quietly vegetating like an ancient citi-
zen who long ago retired from business, and dozing on in
its infirmity until in course of time it tumbles down, and
is replaced by some extravagant young heir, flaunting in
stucco and ornamental work, and all the vanities of mod-
ern days, — in this quarter, and in a street of this de-
scription, the business of the present chapter lies.
At the time of which it treats, though only six-and-
sixty years ago, a very large part of what is London
now had no existence. Even in the brains of the wildest
speculators, there had sprung up no long rows of streets
connecting Highgate with Whitechapel, no assemblages
of palaces in the swampy levels, nor little cities in the
open fields. Although this part of town was then, as
now, parcelled out in streets, and plentifully peopled, it
wore a different aspect. There were gardens to many
of the houses, and trees by the pavement side; with an
air of freshness breathing up and down, which in these
days would be sought in vain. Fields were nigh at
hand, through which the New River took its winding
course, and where there was merry haymaking in the
BARNABY RUDGE.
55
summer time. Nature was not so far removed, or hard
to get at, as in these days ; and although there were
busy trades in Clerkenwell, and working jewellers by
scores, it was a purer place, with farm-houses nearer to
it than many modern Londoners would readily believe,
and lovers' walks at no great distance, which turned into
squalid courts, long before the lovers of this age were
borq, or, as the phrase goes, thought of.
In one of these streets, the cleanest of them all, and
on the shady side of the way — for good housewives
know that sunlight damages their cherished furniture,
and so choose the shade rather than its intrusive glare —
there stood the house with which we have to deal. It
was a modest building, not very straight, not large, not
tall; not bold-faced, with great staring windows, but a
shy blinking house, with a conical roof going up into a
peak over its garret window of four small panes of glass,
like a cocked hat on the head of an elderly gentleman
with one eye. It was not built of brick or lofty stone,
but of wood and plaster; it was not planned with a dull
and wearisome regard to regularity, for no one window
matched the other, or seemed to have the slightest refer-
ence to anything besides itself.
The shop — for it had a shop — was, with reference
to the first floor, where shops usually are; and there
all resemblance between it and any other shop stopped
short and ceased. People who went in and out didn't
gc up a flight of steps to it, or walk easily in upon
a level with the street, but dived down three steep
stairs, as into a cellar. Its floor was paved with stone
and brick, as that of any other cellar might be; and
in lieu of window framed and glazed it had a great
black wooden flap or shutter, nearly breast high from
56 BARNABY RUDGE.
the ground, which turned back in the daytime, ad-
mitting as much cold air as light, and very often more.
Behind this shop was a wainscoted parlor, looking
first into a paved yard, and beyond that again into a
little terrace garden raised some feet above it. Any
stranger would have supposed that this wainscoted par-
lor, saving for the door of communication by which
he had entered, was cut off and detached from all the
world; and indeed most strangers on their first en-
trance were observed to grow extremely thoughtful,
as weighing and pondering in their minds whether the
upper rooms were only approachable by ladders from
without; never suspecting that two of the most unas-
suming and unlikely doors in existence, which the
most ingenious mechanician on earth must of necessity
have supposed to be the doors of closets, opened out
of this room — each without the smallest preparation,
or so much as a quarter of an inch of passage — upon
two dark winding flights of stairs, the one upward, the
other downward, which were the sole means of com-
munication between that chamber and the other por-
tions of the house.
With all these oddities, there was not a neater,
more scrupulously tidy, or more punctiliously ordered
house, in Clerkenwell, in London, in all England.
There were not cleaner windows, or whiter floors, or
brighter stoves, or more highly shining articles of fur-
liture in old mahogany ; there was not more rubbing,
scrubbing, burnishing, and polishing, in the whole street
put together. Nor was this excellence attained with-
out some cost and trouble and great expenditure of
voice, as the neighbors were frequently reminded when
the good lady of the house overlooked and assisted in
BARNABY RUDGE.
57
its being put to rights on cleaning days — which were
usually from Monday morning till Saturday night, both
days inclusive.
Leaning against the door-post of this, his dwelling,
the locksmith stood early on the morning after he had
met with the wounded man, gazing disconsolately at a
great wooden emblem of a key, painted in vivid yel-
low to resemble gold, which dangled from the house-
front, and swung to and fro with a mournful creaking
noise, as if complaining that it had nothing to unlock.
Sometimes, he looked over his shoulder into the shop,
which was so dark and dingy with numerous tokens
of his trade, and so blackened by the smoke of a lit-
tie forge, near which his 'prentice was at work, that
it would have been difficult for one unused to such
espials to have distinguished anything but various tools
of uncouth make and shape, great bunches of rusty
keys, fragments of iron, half-finished locks, and such
like things, which garnished the walls and hung in
clusters from the ceiling.
After a long and patient contemplation of the golden
key, and many such backward glances, Gabriel stepped
into the road, and stole a look at the upper windows.
One of them chanced to be thrown open at the mo-
ment, and a roguish face met his ; a face lighted up
by the loveliest pair of sparkling eyes that ever lock-
smith looked upon ; the face of a pretty, laughing girl
dimpled and fresh, and healthful — the very imperso-
nation of good-humor and blooming beauty.
" Hush !" she whispered, bending forward and point-
ing archly to the window underneath. " Mother is
still asleep."
" Still, my dear," returned the locksmith in the same
58
BARNABY RUDGE.
tone. " You talk as if she had been asleep all night,
instead of little more than half an hour. But I'm
very thankful. Sleep's a blessing — no doubt about
it." The last few words he muttered to himself.
" How cruel of you to keep us up so late this
morning, and never tell us where you were, or send
us word !" said the girl.
" Ah Dolly, Dolly! " returned the locksmith, shak-
ing his head, and smiling, " how cruel of you to run
up-stairs to bed! Come down to breakfast, madcap,
and come down lightly, or you'll wake your mother.
She must be tired, I am sure—I am."
Keeping these latter words to himself, and returning
his daughter's nod, he was passing into the workshop,
with the smile she had awakened still beaming on his
face, when he just caught sight of his 'prentice's brown
paper cap ducking down to avoid observation, and
shrinking from the window back to its former place,
which the wearer no sooner reached than he began
to hammer lustily.
"Listening again, Simon!" said Gabriel to himself.
"That's bad. What in the name of wonder does he
expect the girl to say, that I always catch him listen-
ing when she speaks, and never at any other time!
A bad habit, Sim, a sneaking, underhanded way. Ah
you may hammer, but you won't beat that out of me,
if you work at it till your time's up !"
So saying, and shaking his head gravely, he reen-
tered the workshop, and confronted the subject of these
remarks.
"There's enough of that just now," said the lock-
smith. "You needn't make any more of that con-
founded clatter. Breakfast's ready."
BARNABY RUDGE.
59
" Sir," said Sim, looking up with amazing politeness,
and a peculiar little bow cut short off at the neck.
" I shall attend you immediately."
" I suppose," muttered Gabriel, " that's out of the
'Prentice's Garland, or the 'Prentice's Delight, or the
'Prentice's Warbler, or the 'Prentice's Guide to the
Gallows, or some such improving text-book. Now he's
going to beautify himself — here's a precious lock-
smith !"
Quite unconscious that his master was looking on
from' the dark corner by the parlor door, Sim threw
off the paper cap, sprang from his seat, and in two
extraordinary steps, something between skating and
minuet dancing, bounded to a washing place at the
other end of the shop, and there removed from his
face and hands all traces of his previous work — prac-
tising the same step all the time with the utmost grav-
ity. This done, he drew from some concealed place
a little scrap of looking-glass, and with its assistance
arranged his hair, and ascertained the exact state of a
little carbuncle on his nose. Having now completed
his toilet, he placed the fragment of mirror on a low
bench, and looked over his shoulder at so much of
his legs as could be reflected in that small compass,
with the greatest possible complacency and satisfae-
tion.
Sim, as he was called in the locksmith's family, or
Mr. Simon Tappertit, as he called himself, and re-
quired all men to style him out of doors, on holidays,
and Sundays out, — was an old-fashioned, thin-faced,
sleek-haired, sharp-nosed, small-eyed little fellow, very
little more than five feet high, and thoroughly con-
vinced in his own mind that he was above the middle
60
BARNABY RUDGE.
size; rather tall, in fact, than otherwise. Of his fig-
ure, which was well enough formed, though somewhat
of the leanest, he entertained the highest admiration;
and with his legs, which, in knee-breeches, were per-
feet curiosities of littleness, he was enraptured to a
degree amounting to enthusiasm. He also had some
majestic, shadowy ideas, which had never been quite
fathomed by his intimate friends, concerning the power
of his eye. Indeed he had been known to go so far
as to boast that he could utterly quell and subdue the
haughtiest beauty by a simple process, which he termed
"eying her over;" but it must be added, that neither
of this faculty, nor of the power he claimed to have,
through the same gift, of vanquishing and heaving
down dumb animals, even in a rabid state, had he
ever furnished evidence which could be deemed quite
satisfactory and conclusive.
It may be inferred from these premises, that in the
small body of Mr. Tappertit there was locked up an
ambitious and aspiring soul. As certain liquors, con-
fined in casks too cramped in their dimensions, will
ferment, and fret, and chafe in their imprisonment, so
the spiritual essence or soul of Mr. Tappertit would
sometimes fume within that precious cask, his body,
until, with great foam and froth and splutter, it would
force a vent, and carry all before it. It was his cus-
torn to remark, in reference to any one of these occa-
sions, that his soul had got into his head ; and in this
novel kind of intoxication, many scrapes and mishaps
oefell him, which he had frequently concealed with no
small difficulty from his worthy master.
Sim Tappertit, among the other fancies upon which
his before-mentioned soul was forever feasting and re-
BARNABY RUDGE.
61
galing itself (and which fancies, like the liver of Pro-
metheus, grew as they were fed upon), had a mighty
notion of his order ; and had been heard by the ser-
vant-maid openly expressing his regret that the 'pren-
tices no longer carried clubs wherewith to mace the
citizens: that was his strong expression. He was like-
wise reported to have said that in former times a
stigma had been cast upon the body by the execution
of George Barnwell, to which they should not have
basely submitted, but should have demanded him of
the legislature — temperately at first; then by an ap-
peal to arms, if necessary — to be dealt with, as they
in their wisdom might think fit. These thoughts always
led him to consider what a glorious engine the 'pren-
tices might yet become if they had but a master spirit
at their head; and then he would darkly, and to the
terror of his hearers, hint at certain reckless fellows
that he knew of, and at a certain Lion Heart ready
to become their captain, who, once afoot, would make
the Lord Mayor tremble on his throne.
In respect of dress and personal decoration, Sim Tap-
pertit was no less of an adventurous and enterprising
character. He had been seen beyond dispute to pull off
ruffles of the finest quality at the corner of the street on
Sunday nights, and to put them carefully in his pocket
before returning home; and it was quite notorious that
on all great holiday occasions it was his habit to ex-
change his plain jsteel knee-buckles for a pair of glitter-
ing paste, under cover of a friendly post, planted most
conveniently in that same spot. Add to this, that he
was in years just twenty, in his looks much older, and in
conceit at least two hundred; that he had no objection to
be jested with, touching his admiration of his master's
62
BAKNABY BUDGE.
laughter; and had even, when called upon at a certain
obscure tavern to pledge the lady whom he honored
with his love, toasted with many winks and leers, a
fair creature whose Christian name, he said, began with
a D — ; — and as much is known of Sim Tappertit, who
has by this time followed the locksmith in to break-
fast, as is necessary to be known in making his acquaint-
ance.
It was a substantial meal; for, over and above the
ordinary tea equipage, the board creaked beneath the
weight of a jolly round of beef, a ham of the first mag-
nitude, and sundry towers of buttered Yorkshire cake,
piled slice upon slice in most alluring order. There was
also a goodly jug of well-browned clay, fashioned into
the form of an old gentleman, not by any means unlike
the locksmith, atop of whose bald head was a fine white
froth answering to his wig, indicative, beyond dispute,
of sparkling home-brewed ale. But, better far than
fair home-brewed, or Yorkshire cake, or ham, or beef,
or anything to eat or drink that earth or air or water
can supply, there sat, presiding over all, the locksmith's
rosy daughter, before whose dark eyes even beef grew
insignificant, and malt became as nothing.
Fathers should never kiss their daughters when young
men are by. It's too much. There are bounds to
human endurance. So thought Sim Tappertit when
Gabriel drew those rosy lips to his — those lips within
Sim's reach from day to day, and yet_ so far off. He
had a respect for his master, but he wished the York-
shire cake might choke him.
" Father," said the locksmith's daughter, when this
salute was over, and they took their seats at table, " what
is this I hear about last night ? "
BARNABY RUDGE.
68
" All true, my dear; true as the Gospel, Doll."
"Young Mr. Chester robbed, and lying wounded in
the road, when you came up ? "
" Ay — Mr. Edward. And beside him, Barnaby call-
ing for help with all his might. It was well it hap-
pened as it did ; for the road's a lonely one, the houi
was late, and, the night being cold, and poor Barnaby
even less sensible than usual from surprise and fright,
the young gentleman might have met his death in a very
short time."
" I dread to think of it!" cried his daughter with a
shudder. " How did you know him ? "
"Know him!" returned the locksmith. "I didn't
know him — how could I ? I had never seen him, often
as I had heard and spoken of him. I took him to Mrs.
Rudge's; and she no sooner saw him than the truth
came out."
" Miss Emma, father — If this news should reach
her, enlarged upon as it is sure to be, she will go dis-
traded."
" Why, lookye there again, how a man suffers for
being good-natured," said the locksmith. " Miss Emma
was with her uncle at the masquerade at Carlisle House,
where she had gone, as the people at the Warren told
me, sorely against her will. What does your blockhead
father when he and Mrs. Rudge have laid their heads
together, but goes there when he ought to be abed,
makes interest with his friend the door-keeper, slips
him on a mask and domino, and mixes with the
maskers."
" And like himself to do so !" cried the girl, putting
her fair arm round his neck, and giving him a most en-
thusiastic kiss.
64
BARNABY RUDGE.
"Like himself! " repeated Gabriel, affecting to grum-
ble, but evidently delighted with the part he had taken,
and with her praise. " Very like himself so your
mother said. However, he mingled with the crowd, and
prettily worried and badgered he was, I warrant you,
with people squeaking, ' Don't you know me? ' and ' I ve
found you out,' and all that kind of nonsense in his ears.
He might have wandered on till now, but in a little room
there was a young lady who had taken off her mask, on
account of the place being very warm, and was sitting
there alone."
"And that was she?" said his daughter hastily.
" And that was she," replied the locksmith ; " and I
no sooner whispered to her what the matter was — as
softly, Doll, and with nearly as much art as you could
have used yourself — than she gives a kind of scream
and faints away."
" What did you do — what happened next ? " asked
his daughter.
" Why, the masks came flocking round, with a gen-
eral noise and hubbub, and I thought myself in luck to
get clear off, that's all," rejoined the locksmith. " What
happened when I reached home you may guess, if you
didn't hear it. Ah ! Well, it's a poor heart that never
rejoices. — Put Toby this way, my dear."
This Toby was the brown jug of which previous men-
tion has been made. Applying his lips to the worthy
old gentleman's benevolent forehead, the locksmith, who
had all this time been ravaging among the eatables, kept
them there so long, at the same time raising the ves-
sel slowly in the air, that at length Toby stood on his
head upon his nose, when he smacked his lips and set
him on the table again with fond reluctance.
BARNABY RUDGE.
65
Although Sim Tappertit had taken no share in this
conversation, no part of it being addressed to him, he
had not been wanting in such silent manifestations of
astonishment, as he deemed most compatible with the
favorable display of his eyes. Regarding the pause
which now ensued, as a particularly advantageous op-
portunity for doing great execution with them upon the
locksmith's daughter (who he had no doubt was looking
at him in mute admiration), he began to screw and
twist his face, and especially those features, into such
extraordinary, hideous, and unparalleled contortions, that
Gabriel, who happened to look towards him, was stricken
with amazement.
" Why, what the devil's the matter with the lad ?"
cried the locksmith. "Is he choking?"
" Who ? " demanded Sim, with some disdain.
" Who ? why, you," returned his master. " What do
you mean by making those horrible faces over your
breakfast ? "
" Faces are matters of taste, sir," said Mr. Tappertit,
rather discomfited; not the less so because he saw the
locksmith's daughter smiling.
" Sim," rejoined Gabriel, laughing heartily. " Don't
be a fool, for I'd rather see you in your senses. These
young fellows," he added, turning to his daughter, " are
always committing some folly or another. There was
a quarrel between Joe Willet and old John last night
— though I can't say Joe was much in fault either.
He'll be missing one of these mornings, and will have
gone away upon some wild-goose errand, seeking his
fortune. — Why, what's the matter, Doll ? You are
making faces now. The girls are as bad as the boys
every bit!"
VOL. i. 5
66
BARNABY RUDGE.
"It's the tea," said Dolly, turning alternately very
red and very white, which is no doubt the effect of a
slight scald — " so very hot."
Mr. Tappertit looked immensely big at a quartern
loaf on the table, and breathed hard.
" Is that all ? " returned the locksmith. " Put some
more milk in it. — Yes, I am sorry for Joe, because he
is a likely young fellow, and gains upon one every time
one sees him. But he'll start off, you'll find. Indeed
he told me as much himself! "
" Indeed ! " cried Dolly in a faint voice. " In—deed!"
" Is the tea tickling your throat still, my dear ? " said
the locksmith.
But, before his daughter could make him any answer,
she was taken with a troublesome cough, and it was such
a very unpleasant cough that, when she left off, the tears
were starting in her bright eyes. The good-natured
locksmith was still patting her on the back and apply-
ing such gentle restoratives, when a message arrived
from Mrs. Yarden, making known to all whom it might
concern, that she felt too much indisposed to rise after
her great agitation and anxiety of the previous night;
and therefore desired to be immediately accommodated
with the little black teapot of strong mixed tea, a couple
of rounds of buttered toast, a middling-sized dish of beef
and ham cut thin, and the Protestant Manual in two
volumes, post octavo. Like some other ladies who in
remote ages flourished upon this globe, Mrs. Varden was
most devout when most ill-tempered. Whenever she
and her husband were at unusual variance, then the
Protestant Manual was in high feather. *
Knowing from experience what these requests por-
tended, the triumvirate broke up; Dolly, to see the
BARNABY RUDGE.
67
orders executed with all despatch ; Gabriel, to some out-
of-door work in his little chaise; and Sim, to his daily
duty in the workshop, to which retreat he carried the
big look, although the loaf remained behind.
Indeed the big look increased immensely, and when
he had tied his apron on, became quite gigantic. It was
not until he had several times walked up and down with
folded arms, and the longest strides he could take, and
had kicked a great many small articles out of his way,
that his lip began to curl. At length, a gloomy derision
came upon his features, and he smiled; uttering mean-
while with supreme contempt the monosyllable " Joe ! "
" I eyed her over, while he talked about the fellow,"
he said, " and that was of course the reason of her being
confused. Joe 1"
He walked up and down again much quicker than be-
fore, and if possible with longer strides; sometimes stop-
ping to take a glance at his legs, and sometimes to jerk
out and cast from him, another " Joe 1" In the course
of a quarter of an hour or so he again assumed the
paper cap and tried to work. No. It could not be done.
" I'll do nothing to-day," said Mr. Tappertit, dashing
it down again, " but grind. I'll grind up all the tools.
Grinding will suit my present humor well. Joe !"
Whirr-r-r-r. The grindstone was soon in motion;
the sparks were flying off in showers. This was the
occupation for his heated spirit.
Whirr-r-r-r-r-r-r.
'* " Something will come of this! " said Mr. Tappertit,
pausing as if in triumph, and wiping his heated face
ypon his sleeve. " Something will come of this. I
hope it mayn't be human gore !"
Whirr-r-r-r-r-r-r.
68
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER V.
As soon as the business of the day was over, the lock-
smith sallied forth, alone, to visit the wounded gentleman
and ascertain the progress of his recovery. The house
where he had left him was in a by-street in Southwark,
not far from London Bridge; and thither he hied with
all speed, bent upon returning with as little delay as
might be, and getting to bed betimes.
The evening was boisterous — scarcely better than
the previous night had been. It was not easy for a
stout man like Gabriel to keep his legs at the street
corners, or to make head against the high wind, which
often fairly got the better of him and drove him back
some paces, or, in defiance of all his energy, forced him
to take shelter in an arch or door-way until the fury of
the gust was spent. Occasionally a hat or wig, or both,
came spinning and trundling past him, like a mad thing;
while the more serious spectacle of falling tiles and slates,
or of masses of brick and mortar or fragments of stone-
coping rattling upon the pavement near at hand, and
splitting into fragments, did not increase the pleasure of
the journey, or make the way less dreary.
" A trying night for a man like me to walk in !"
said the locksmith, as he knocked softly at the widow's
door. " I'd rather be in old John's chimney-corner,
faith!"
" Who's there ?" demanded a woman's voice from
BARNABY RUDGE.
69
within. Being answered, it added a hasty word of wel-
come, and the door was quickly opened.
She was about forty — perhaps two or three years
older — with a cheerful aspect, and a face that had once
been pretty. It bore traces of affliction and care, but
they were of an old date, and Time had smoothed them.
Any one who had bestowed but a casual glance on Bar-
naby might have known that this was his mother, from
the strong resemblance between them ; but where in his
face there was wildness and vacancy, in hers there was
the patient composure of long effort and quiet resignation.
One thing about this face was very strange and start-
ling. You could not look upon it in its most cheerful
mood without feeling that it had some extraordinary
capacity of expressing terror. It was not on the surface.
It was in no one feature that it lingered. You could not
take the eyes, or mouth, or lines upon the cheek, and
say if this or that were otherwise, it would not be so.
Yet there it always lurked — something forever dimly
seen, but ever there, and never absent for a moment. It
was the faintest, palest shadow of some look, to which an
instant of intense and most unutterable horror only could
have given birth ; but indistinct and feeble as it was, it
did suggest what that look must have been, and fixed it
in the mind as if it had had existence in a dream.
More faintly imaged, and wanting force and purpose,
. as it were, because of his darkened intellect, there was
this same stamp upon the son. Seen in a picture, it
must have had some legend with it, and would have
haunted those who looked upon the canvas. They who
knew the Maypole story, and could remember what the
widow was, before her husband's and his master's murder,
understood it well. They recollected how the change
70
BARNABY RUDGE.
had come, and could call to mind that when her son was
born, upon the very day the deed was known, he bore
upon his wrist what seemed a smear of blood but half
washed out.
" God save you, neighbor!" said the locksmith, as he
followed her with the air of an old friend, into a little
parlor where a cheerful fire was burning.
" And you," she answered, smiling. " Your kind
heart has brought you here again. Nothing will keep
you at home, I know of old, if there are friends to serve
or comfort, out of doors."
" Tut, tut," returned the locksmith, rubbing his hands
and warming them. " You women are such talkers.
What of the patient, neighbor?"
" He is sleeping now. He was very restless towards
daylight, and for some hours tossed and tumbled sadly.
But the fever has left him, and the doctor says he will
soon mend. He must not be removed until to-morrow."
" He has had visitors to-day — humph ? " said Gabriel,
slyly.
" Yes. Old Mr. Chester has been here ever since we
sent for him, and had not been gone many minutes when
you knocked."
" No ladies ?" said Gabriel, elevating his eyebrows
and looking disappointed.
" A letter," replied the widow.
" Come. That's better than nothing ! " cried the lock
smith. " Who was the bearer ? "
" Barnaby, of course."
" Barnaby's a jewel! " said Varden ; " and comes and
goes with ease where we who think ourselves much wiser
would make but a poor hand of it. He is not out wan-
dering again, I hope ? "
BARNABY RUDGE.
71
" Thank Heaven he is in his bed ; having been up
all night, as you know, and on his feet all day. He
was quite tired out. Ah, neighbor, if I could but see
him oftener so — if I could but tame down that terrible
restlessness "
" In good time," said the locksmith, kindly, " in good
time — don't be down-hearted. To my mind he grows
wiser every day."
The widow shook her head. And yet, though she
knew the locksmith sought to cheer her, and spoke from
no conviction of his own, she was glad to hear even this
praise of her poor benighted son.
" He will be a 'cute man yet," resumed the locksmith.
" Take care, when we are growing old and foolish, Bar-
naby doesn't put us to the blush, that's all. But our
other friend," he added, looking under the table and
about the floor — "sharpest and cunningest of all the
sharp and cunning ones — where's he ? "
" In Barnaby's room," rejoined the widow, with a
faint smile.
" Ah ! He's a knowing blade !" said Varden, shak-
ing his head. " I should be sorry to talk secrets before
him. Oh ! He's a deep customer, I've no doubt he can
read, and write, and cast accounts if he chooses. What
was that — him tapping at the door ? "
" No," returned the widow. " It was in the street, I
think. Hark! Yes. There again! 'Tis some one
knocking softly at the shutter. Who can it be !"
They had been speaking in a low tone, for the invalid
>ay overhead, and the walls and ceilings being thin and
poorly built, the sound of their voices might otherwise
have disturbed his slumber. The party without, who-
ever it was, could have stood close to the shutter with-
72
BARNABY RUDGE.
out hearing anything spoken ; and, seeing the light
through the chinks and finding all so quiet, might have
been persuaded that only one person was there.
" Some thief or ruffian, may be," said the locksmith.
" Give me the light."
" No, no," she returned hastily. " Such visitors have
never come to this poor dwelling. Do you stay here.
You're within call, at the worst. I would rather go
myself — alone."
" Why ? " said the locksmith, unwillingly relinquish-
ing the candle he had caught up from the table.
" Because — I don't know why — because the wish
is strong upon me," she rejoined. " Thex-e again — do
not detain me, I beg of -you !"
Gabriel looked at her, in great surprise to see one
who was usually so mild and quiet thus agitated, and
with so little cause. She left the room and closed the
door behind her. She stood for a moment as if hesitat-
ing, with her hand upon the lock. In this short interval
the knocking came again, and a voice close to the win-
dow — a voice the locksmith seemed to recollect, and to
have some disagreeable association with — whispered
"Make haste."
The words were uttered in that low distinct voice
which finds its way so readily to sleepers' ears, and
wakes them in a fright. For a moment it startled even
the locksmith ; who involuntarily drew back from the
window, and listened.
The wind rumbling in the chimney made it difficult
to hear what passed, but he could tell that the door was
opened, that there was the tread of a man upon the
creaking boards, and then a moment's silence — broken
by a suppressed something which was not a shriek, or
BARNABY RUDGE.
73
groan, or cry for help, and yet might have been either
or all three; and the words " My God!" uttered in a
voice it chilled him to hear.
He rushed out upon the instant. There, at last, was
that dreadful look — the very one he seemed to know
so well and yet had never seen before — upon her face.
There, she stood, frozen to the ground, gazing with start-
ing eyes, and livid cheeks, and every feature fixed and
ghastly, upon the man he had encountered in the dark
last night. His eyes met those of the locksmith. It
was but a flash, an instant, a breath upon a polished
glass, and he was gone.
The locksmith was upon him — had the skirts of his
streaming garment almost in his grasp — when his arms
were tightly clutched, and the widow flung herself upon
the ground before him.
" The other way — the other way," she cried. " He
went the other way. Turn — turn ! "
" The other way! I see him now," rejoined the
locksmith, pointing — " yonder — there — there is his
shadow passing by that light. What — who is this ?
Let me go."
" Come back, come back!" exclaimed the woman,
clasping him; " Do not touch him on your life. I
charge you, come back. He carries other lives besides
his own. Come back!"
"What does this mean?" cried the locksmith.
" No matter what it means, don't ask, don't speak,
don't think about it. He is not to be followed, checked,
or stopped. Come back ! "
The old man looked at her in wonder, as she writhed
and clung about him; and, borne down by her passion,
Buffered her to drag him into the house. It was not
74
BARNABY RUDGE.
until she had chained and double-locked the door, fas-
tened every bolt and bar with the heat and fury of a
maniac, and drawn him back into the room, that she
turned upon him, once again, that stony look of horror,
and sinking down into a chair, covered her face, and
shuddered, as though the hand of death were on her.
BARNABY RUDGE.
75.
CHAPTER VI.
Beyond all measure astonished by the strange oo-
currences which had passed with so much violence and
rapidity, the locksmith gazed upon the shuddering figure
in the chair like one half stupefied, and would have
gazed much longer, had not his tongue been loosened
by compassion and humanity.
" You are ill," said Gabriel. " Let me call some
neighbor in."
" Not for the world," she rejoined, motioning to him
with her trembling hand, and still holding her face
averted. "It is enough that you have been by, to see
this."
" Nay, more than enough — or less," said Gabriel.
" Be it so," she returned. " As you like. Ask me
no questions, I entreat you."
" Neighbor," said the locksmith after a pause. " Is
this fair or reasonable, or just to yourself? Is it like
you, who have known me so long and sought my advice
in all matters — like you, who from a girl have had a
strong mind and a stanch heart ? "
" I have had need of them," she replied. " I am
growing old, both in years and care. Perhaps that, and
too much trial, have made them weaker than they used
to be. Do not speak to me."
" How can I see what I have seen, and hold my
peace !" returned the locksmith. " Who was that
76
BARNABY RUDGE.
man, and why has his coming made this change in
you ? "
She was silent, but held to the chair as though to
save herself from falling on the ground.
" I take the license of an old acquaintance, Mary,"
said the locksmith, " who has ever had a warm regard
for you, and maybe has tried to prove it when he
could. Who is this ill-favored man, and what has he
to do with you ? Who is this ghost, that is only seen
in the black nights and bad weather? How does he
know, and why does he haunt, this house, whispering
through chinks and crevices, as if there was that be-
tween him and you, which neither durst so much as
speak aloud of? Who is he?"
" You do well to say he haunts this house," returned
the widow, faintly. " His shadow has been upon it
and me, in light and darkness, at noonday and mid-
night. And now, at last, he has come in the body!"
" But he wouldn't have gone in the body," returned
the locksmith with some irritation, " if you had left my
arms and legs at liberty. What riddle is it ? "
" It is one," she answered, rising as she spoke, " that
must remain forever as it is. I dare not say more
than that."
" Dare not! " repeated the wondering locksmith.
" Do not press me," she replied. " I am sick and
faint, and every faculty of life seems dead within me.
— No! — Do not touch me, either."
Gabriel, who had stepped forward to render her as-
sistance, fell back as she made this hasty exclamation,
and regarded her in silent wonder.
" Let me go my way alone," she said in a low voice,
" and let the hands of no honest man touch mine to-
BARNABY RUDGE.
77
night." When she had tottered to the door, she turned,
and added with a stronger effort, " This is a secret,
which, of necessity, I trust to you. You are a true
man. As you have ever been good and kind to me,
— keep it. If any noise was heard above, make some
excuse — say anything but what you really saw, and
never let a word or look between us, recall this cir-
cumstance. I trust to you. Mind, I trust to you,
How much I trust, you never can conceive."
Casting her eyes upon him for an instant, she with-
drew, and left him there alone.
Gabriel, not knowing what to think, stood staring
at the door with a countenance full of surprise and
dismay. The more he pondered on what had passed,
the less able he was to give it any favorable inter-
pretation. To find this widow woman, whose life for
so many years had been supposed to be one of soli-
tude and retirement, and who, in her quiet suffering
character, had gained the good opinion and respect of
all who knew her — to find her linked mysteriously
with an ill-omened man, alarmed at his appearance,
and yet favoring his escape, was a discovery that
pained as much as it startled him. Her reliance on
his secrecy, and his tacit acquiescence, increased his
distress of mind. If he had spoken boldly, persisted
in questioning her, detained her when she rose to
leave the room, made any kind of protest, instead of
silently compromising himself, as he felt he had done,
he would have been more at ease.
" Why did I let her say it was a secret, and she
trusted it to me!" said Gabriel, putting his wig on
one side to scratch his head with greater ease, and
looking ruefully at the fire. "I have no more readi-.
78
BARNABY RUDGE.
ness than old John himself. Why didn't I say firmly,
'You have no right to such secrets, and I demand
of you to tell me what this means,' instead of stand-
V ing gaping at her, like an old mooncalf as I am ! But
there's my weakness. I can be obstinate enough with
men if need be, but women may twist me round their
fingers at their pleasure."
He took his wig off outright as he made this reflec-
tion, and, warming his handkerchief at the fire began
to rub and polish his bald head with it, until it glis-
tened again.
" And yet," said the locksmith, softening under this
soothing process, and stopping to smile, "it may be
nothing. Any drunken brawler trying to make his
way into the house, would have alarmed a quiet soul
like her. But then " — and here was the vexation —
" how came it to be that man; how comes he to have
this influence over her; how came she to favor his
getting away from me; and, more than all, how came
she not to say it was a sudden fright, and nothing
more? It's a sad thing to have, in one minute, rea-
son to mistrust a person I have known so long, and
an old sweetheart into the bargain: but what else can
I do, with all this upon my mind! — Is that Barnaby
outside there ? "
" Ay !" he cried, looking in and nodding. " Sure
enough it's Barnaby — how did you guess ? "
" By your shadow," said the locksmith.
" Oho!" cried Barnaby, glancing over his shoulder,
" He's a merry fellow, that shadow, and keeps close
to me, though I am silly. We have such pranks, such
walks, such runs, such gambols on the grass! Some-
times he'll be half as tall as a church steeple, and
BAENABY EUDGE.
79
Bometimes no bigger than a dwarf. Now, he goes on
before, and now behind, and anon he'll be stealing
slyly on, on this side, or on that, stopping whenever I
stop, and thinking I can't see him, though I have my
eye on him sharp enough. Oh ! he's a merry fellcw.
Tell me — is he silly too ! I think he is."
" Why ? " asked Gabriel.
" Because he never tires of mocking me, but does
it all day long. — Why don't you come ? "
« Where ? "
" Up-stairs. He wants you. Stay — where's hit
shadow? Come. You're a wise man; tell me that."
" Beside him, Barnaby; beside him, I suppose," re-
turned the locksmith.
" No!" he replied, shaking his head. " Guess again "
" Gone out a-walking, maybe ? "
" He has changed shadows with a woman," the idiot
whispered in his ear, and then fell back with a look
of triumph. " Her shadow's always with him, and his
with her. That's sport I think, eh?"
" Barnaby," said the locksmith, with a grave look;
" come hither, lad."
" I know what you want to say. I know !" he re-
plied, keeping away from him. " But I'm cunning,
I'm silent. I only say so much to you — are you
ready ?" As he spoke, he caught up the light, and
waved it with a wild laugh above his head.
" Softly — gently," said the locksmith, exerting all
his influence to keep him calm and quiet. " I thought
you had been asleep."
" So I have been asleep," he rejoined, with widely-
opened eyes. " There have been great faces coming
and going — close to my face, and then a mile away
80
BARNABY RUDGE.
"—low places to creep through, whether I would or
no — high churches to fall down from — strange crea-
tures crowded up together neck and heels, to sit upon
the bed — that's sleep, eh ? "
" Dreams, Barnaby, dreams," said the locksmith.
" Dreams! " he echoed softly, drawing closer to him.
" Those are not dreams."
" What are," replied the locksmith, " if they are
not ? "
" I dreamed," said Barnaby, passing his arm through
Varden's, and peering close into his face as he answered
in a whisper, " I dreamed just now that something —
it was in the shape of a man — followed me — came
softly after me — wouldn't let me be — but was always
hiding and crouching, like a cat in dark corners, wait-
ing till I should pass; when it crept out and came
softly after me. — Did you ever see me run?"
" Many a time, you know."
" Yon never saw me run as I did in this dream.
Still it came creeping on to worry me. Nearer, nearer,
nearer — I ran faster — leaped — sprung out of bed,
and to the window — and there, in the street below —
but he is waiting for us. Are you coming ? "
" What in the street below, Barnaby ?" said Yar-
den, imagining that he traced some connection between
this vision and what had actually occurred.
Barnaby looked into his face, muttered incoherently,
waved the light above his head again, laughed, and
drawing the locksmith's arm more tightly through his
own, led him up the stairs in silence.
TLey entered a homely bedchamber, garnished in
a scanty way with chairs whose spindle-shanks bespoke
their age, and other furniture of very little worth; but
BARNABY RUDGE.
81
clean and neatly kept. Reclining in an easy-chair
before the fire, pale and weak from waste of blood,
was Edward Chester, the young gentleman who had
been the first to quit the Maypole on the previous
night, and who, extending his hand to the locksmith,
welcomed him as his preserver and friend.
" Say no more, sir, say no more," said Gabriel. " I
hope I would have done at least as much for any
man in such a strait, and most of all for you, sir.
A certain young lady," he added, with some hesita-
tion, " hits done us many a kind turn, and we natu-
rally feel — I hope I give you no offence in saying
this, sir ? "
The young man smiled and shook his head ; at the
same time moving in his chair as if in pain.
" It's no great matter," he said, in answer to the
locksmith's sympathizing look, " a mere uneasiness
arising at least as much from being cooped up here,
as from the slight wound I have, or from the loss of
blood. Be seated, Mr. Varden."
" If I may make so bold, Mr. Edward, as to lean
upon your chair," returned the locksmith, accommodat-
ing his action to his speech, and bending over him,
"I'll stand here, for the convenience of speaking low.
Bamaby is not in his quietest humor to-night, and at
such times talking never does him good."
They both glanced at the subject of this remark,
who had taken a seat on the other side of the fire,
and, smiling vacantly, was making puzzles on his fin-
gers with a skein of string.
" Pray, tell me, sir," said Yarden, dropping his voice
still lower, " exactly what happened last night. I have
my reason for inquiring. You left the Maypole alone ? "
vol. i. 6
82
BARNABY RUDGE.
" And walked homeward alone, until I had nearly
reached the place where you found me, when I heard
the gallop of a horse."
— " Behind you ? " said the locksmith.
" Indeed, yes — behind me. It was a single rider,
who soon overtook me, and checking his horse, inquired
the way to London."
" You were on the alert, sir, knowing how many high-
waymen there are, scouring the roads in all directions ? "
said Yarden.
" I was, but I had only a stick, having imprudently
left my pistols in their holster-case with the landlord's
son. I directed him as he desired. Before the words
had passed my lips, he rode upon me furiously, as if
bent on trampling me down beneath his horse's hoofs.
In starting aside, I slipped and fell. You found me with
this stab and an ugly bruise or two, and without my
purse — in which he found little enough for his pains.
And now, Mr. Varden," he added, shaking the locksmith
by the hand, "saving the extent of my gratitude to you,
you know as much as I."
" Except," said Gabriel, bending down yet more,
and looking cautiously towards their silent neighbor,
"except in respect of the robber himself. What like
was he, sir? Speak low, if you please. Barnaby
means no harm, but I have watched him oflener than
you, and I know, little as you would think it, that he's
listening now."
It required a strong confidence in the locksmith's ve-
racity to lead any one to this belief, for every sense and
faculty that Barnaby possessed, seemed to be fixed upon
liis game, to the exclusion of all other things. Some-
thing in the young man's face expressed this opinion.
BARNABY RUDGE.
83
for Gabriel repeated what he had just said, more ear-
nestly than before, and with another glance towards Bar-
naby, again asked what like the man was.
" The night was so dark," said Edward, " the attack
so sudden, and he so wrapped and muffled up, that I can
hardly say. It seems that " —
" Don't mention his name, sir," returned the locksmith,
following his look towards Barnaby ; <l I know he saw
him. I want to know what you saw."
" All I remember is," said Edward, " that as he
checked his horse his hat was blown off. He caught it
and replaced it on his head, which I observed was bound
with a dark handkerchief. A stranger entered the May-
pole while I was there, whom I had not seen — for I sat
apart for reasons of my own — and when I rose to leave
the room and glanced round, he was in the shadow of
the chimney and hidden from my sight. But, if he and
the robber were two different persons, their voices were
strangely and most remarkably alike; for directly the
man addressed me in the road, I recognized his speech
again."
" It is as I feared. The very man was here to-night,"
thought the locksmith, changing color. " What dark his-
tory is this!"
" Halloa !" cried a hoarse voice in his ear. " Halloa,
halloa, halloa! Bow wow wow. What's the matter
here ! Hal-loa 1"
The speaker — who made the locksmith start, as if he
bad seen some supernatural agent — was a large raven,
who had perched upon the top of the easy-chair, unseen
by him and Edward, and listened with a polite attention
and a most extraordinary appearance of comprehending
every word, to all they had said up to this point; turning
84
BARNABY RUDGE.
his head from one to the other, as if his office were to
judge between them, and it were of the very last im-
portance that he should not lose a word.
" Look at him!" said Yarden, divided between adrai-
ration of the bird and a kind of fear of him. " Was
there ever such a knowing imp as that! Oh he's a
dreadful fellow!"
The raven, with his head very much on one side, and
his bright eye shining like a diamond, preserved a
thoughtful silence for a few seconds, and then replied
in a voice so hoarse and distant, that it seemed to
come through his thick feathers rather that out of his
mouth.
" Halloa, halloa, halloa! What's the matter here!
Keep up your spirits. Never say die. Bow wow wow.
I'm a devil, I'm a devil, I'm a devil. Hurrah ! " — And
then, as if exulting in his infernal character, he began to
whistle.
" I more than half believe he speaks the truth. Upon
my word, I do," said Yarden. " Do you see how he
looks at me, as if he knew what I was saying?"
To which the bird, balancing himself on tiptoe, as it
were, and moving his body up and down in a sort of
grave dance, rejoined, " I'm a devil, I'm a devil, I'm a
devil," and flapped his wings against his sides as if he
were bursting with laughter. Barnaby clapped his
hands, and fairly rolled upon the ground in an ecstasy
of delight.
" Strange companions, sir," said the locksmith, shaking
his head and looking from one to the other. " The bird
•as all the wit."
" Strange indeed! " said Edward, holding out his fore-
Anger to the raven, who, in acknowledgment of the at-
BARNABY RUDGE.
85
tention made a dive at it immediately with his iron bill
" Is he old ? "
" A mere boy, sir," replied the locksmith. " A bun-
dred and twenty, or thereabouts. Call him down, Bar-
naby, my man."
" Call him!" echoed Barnaby, sitting upright upon
the floor, and staring vacantly at Gabriel, as he thrust
his hair back from his face. " But who can make him
come ! He calls me, and makes me go where he will.
He goes on before, and I follow. He's the master, and
I'm the man. Is that the truth, Grip ? "
The raven gave a short, comfortable, confidential kind
of croak ; — a most expressive croak, which seemed to
say, " You needn't let these fellows into our secrets.
We understand each other. It's #tll right."
" I make him come ? " cried Barnaby, pointing to the
bird. " Him, who never goes to sleep, or so much as
winks ! — Why, any time of night, you may see his eyes
in my dark room, shining like two sparks. And every
night, and all night too, he's broad awake, talking to
himself, thinking what he shall do to-morrow, where we
shall go, and what he shall steal, and hide, and bury. I
make him come ! Ha, ha, ha ! "
On second thoughts, the bird appeared disposed to come
of himself. After a short survey of the ground, and a
few sidelong looks at the ceiling and at everybody pres-
ent in turn, he fluttered to the floor, and went to Barnaby
— not in a hop, or walk, or run, but in a pace like that
of a very particular gentleman with exceedingly tight
uoots on, trying to walk fast over loose pebbles. Then,
stepping into his extended hand, and condescending to be
tield out at arm's length, he gave vent to a succession
vf sounds, not unlike the drawing of some eight or ten
86
BARNABY BUDGE.
dozen of long corks, and again asserted his brimstone
birth and parentage with great distinctness.
The locksmith shook his head — perhaps in »ome
doubt of the creature's being really nothing but a bird —
perhaps in pity for Barnaby, who by this time had him
in his arms, and was rolling about, with him, on the
ground. As he raised his eyes from the poor fellow he
encountered those of his mother, who had entered the
room, and was looking on in silence.
She was quite white in the face, even to her lips,
but had wholly subdued her emotion, and wore her
usual quiet look. Yarden fancied, as he glanced at
her that she shrunk from his eye! and that she busied
herself about the wounded gentleman to avoid him the
better. »
It was time he went to bed, she said. He was to be
removed to his own home on the morrow, and he had
already exceeded his time for sitting up, by a full hour.
Acting on this hint, the locksmith prepared to take his
leave.
" By the by," said Edward, as he shook him by the
hand, and looked from him to Mrs. Rudge and back
again, " what noise was that below ? I heard your voice
in the midst of it, and should have inquired before, but
our other conversation drove it from my memory. What
was it ? "
The locksmith looked towards her, and bit his lip.
She leant against the chair, and bent her eyes upon the
ground. Barnaby too — he was listening.
— "Some mad or drunken fellow, sir," Varden at
length made answer, looking steadily at the widow as he
spoke. " He mistook the house, and tried to force an
entrance."
BARNABY BUDGE.
87
She breathed more freely, but stood quite motionless.
As the locksmith said " Good-night," and Barnaby caught
up the candle to light him down the stairs, she took it
from him, and charged him — with more haste and
earnestness than so slight an occasion appeared to war-
rant—not to stir. The raven followed them to satisfy
himself that all was right below, and when they reached
the street-door, stood on the bottom stair drawing corks
out of number.
With a trembling hand she unfastened the chain and
bolts and turned the key. As she had her hand upon
the latch, the locksmith said in a low voice, —
" I have told a lie to-night, for your sake, Mary, and
for the sake of bygone times, and old acquaintance, when
I would scorn to do so for my own. I hope I may have
done no harm, or led to none. I can't help the suspicions
you have forced upon me, and I am loath, I tell you
plainly, to leave Mr. Edward here. Take care he comes
to no hurt. I doubt the safety of this roof, and am glad
he leaves it so soon. Now, let me go."
For a moment she hid her face in her hands and
wept; but resisting the strong impulse which evidently
moved her .to reply, opened the door — no wider than
was sufficient for the passage of his body — and mo-
tioned him away. As the locksmith stood upon the
step, it was chained and locked behind him, and the
raven, in furtherance of these precautions, barked like
a lusty house-dog.
" In league with that ill-looking figure that might
have fallen from a gibbet — he listening and hiding
here — Barnaby first upon the spot last night — can
she who has always borne so fair a name be guilty of
«uch crimes in secret!" said the locksmith, musing.
88
BABNABY BUDGE.
" Heaven forgive me if I am wrong, and send me jusi
thoughts; but she is poor, the temptation may be great,
and we daily hear of things as strange. — Ay, bark
away, my friend. If there's any wickedness going on,
that raven's in it, I'll be sworn."
BARNABY RUDGE.
89
CHAPTER VII.
Mrs. Varden was a lady of what is commonly called
an uncertain temper — a phrase which being inter-
preted signifies a temper tolerably certain to make
everybody more or less uncomfortable. Thus it gener- •
ally happened, that when other people were merry, Mrs.
Varden was dull; and that when other people were
dull, Mrs. Varden was disposed to be amazingly cheer-
ful. Indeed the worthy housewife was of such a capri-
cious nature, that she not only attained a higher pitch
of genius than Macbeth, in respect of her ability to be
wise, amazed, temperate and furious, loyal and neutral
in an instant, but would sometimes ring the changes
backwards and forwards on all possible moods and
flights in one short quarter of an hour; performing, as
it were, a kind of triple bob-major on the peal of in-
struments in the female belfry, with a skilfulness and
rapidity of execution that astonished all who heard
her.
It had been observed in this good lady (who did not
want for personal attractions, being plump and buxom
to look at, though like her fair daughter, somewhat
short in stature) that this uncertainty of disposition
strengthened and increased with her temporal pros-
perity; and divers wise men and matrons on friendly
'erms with the locksmith and his family, even went so
far as to assert, that a tumble-down some half dozen
90
BARNABY RUDGE.
rounds in the world's ladder — such as the breaking
of the bank in which her husband kept his money, or
some little fall of that kind — would be the making of
her, and could hardly fail to render her one of the most
agreeable companions in existence. Whether they were
right or wrong in this conjecture, certain it is that minds,
like bodies, will often fall into a pimpled ill-conditioned
state from mere excess of comfort, and like them, are
often successfully cured by remedies in themselves very
nauseous and unpalatable.
Mrs. Varden's chief aider and abettor, and at the
same time her principal victim and object of wrath,
was her single domestic servant, one Miss Miggs; or
as she was called, in conformity with those prejudices
of society which lop and top from poor handmaidens
all such genteel excrescences — Miggs. This Miggs
was a tall young lady, very much addicted to pattens in
private life ; slender and shrewish, of a rather uncom-
fortable figure, and though not absolutely ill-looking, of
a sharp and acid visage. As a general principle and
abstract proposition, Miggs held the male sex to be ut-
terly contemptible and unworthy of notice ; to be fickle,
false, base, sottish, inclined to perjury, and wholly unde-
serving. When particularly exasperated against them
(which, scandal said was when Sim Tappertit slighted
her most) she was accustomed to wish with great em-
phasis that the whole race of women could but die off",
in order that the men might be brought to know the
real value of the blessings by which they set so little
store; nay, her feeling for her order ran so high, that
she sometimes declared, if she could only have good
security for a fair, round number — say ten thousand
— of young virgins following her example, she would,
BARNABY RUDGE.
91
to spite mankind, hang, drown, stab, or poison herself,
with a joy past all expression.
It was the voice of Miggs that greeted the locksmith,
when he knocked at his own house, with a shrill cry
of " Who's there ? "
" Me, girl, me," returned Gabriel.
" What, already, sir!" said Miggs, opening the door
with a look of surprise. " We was just getting on our
nightcaps to sit up, — me and mistress. Oh, she has
been so bad ! "
Miggs said this with an air of uncommon candor and
concern ; but the parlor-door was standing open, and as
Gabriel very well knew for whose ears it was designed,
he regarded her with anything but an approving look
as he passed in.
"Master's come home, mim," cried Miggs, running
before him into the parlor. " You was wrong, mim, and
I was right. I thought he wouldn't keep us up so late
two nights running, mim. Master's always considerate
so far. I'm so glad, mim, on your account. I'm a lit-
tie " — here Miggs simpered — "a little sleepy myself;
I'll own it now, mim, though I said I wasn't when you
asked me. It a'n't of no consequence, mim, of course."
" You had better," said the locksmith, who most
devoutly wished that Barnaby's raven was at Miggs'
ankles, " you had better get to bed at once then."
" Thanking you kindly, sir," returned Miggs, " I
couldn't take my rest in peace, nor fix my thoughts
upon my prayers, otherways than that I knew mistress
was comfortable in her bed this night; by rights she
should have been there, hours ago."
" You're talkative, mistress," said Yarden, pulling off
Via great-coat, and looking at her askew.
92
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Taking the hint, sir," cried Miggs, with a flushed
face, " and thanking you for it most kindly, I will make
bold to say, that if I give offence by having considera-
tion for my mistress, I do not ask your pardon, but am
content to get myself into trouble and to be in suffering."
Here Mrs. Varden, who, with her countenance shroud-
ed in a large nightcap, had been all this time intent
. npon the Protestant Manual, looked round, and acknowl-
edged Miggs' championship by commanding her to hold
her tongue.
Every little bone in Miggs' throat and neck developed
itself with a spitefulness quite alarming, as she replied,
''Yes, mim, I will."
" How do you find yourself now, my dear ? " said
the locksmith, taking a chair near his wife (who had
resumed her book), and rubbing his knees hard as he
made the inquiry.
" You're very anxious to know, a'n't you ? " returned
Mrs. Yarden, with her eyes upon the print. " You, that
have not been near me all day, and wouldn't have been
if I was dying!"
" My dear Martha " — said Gabriel.
Mrs. Varden turned over to the next page; then
went back again to the bottom line over leaf to be quite
sure of the last words, and then went on reading with an
appearance of the deepest interest and study.
" My dear Martha," said the locksmith, " how can you
say such things, when you know you don't mean them ?
If you were dying! Why, if there was anything serious
the matter with you, Martha, shouldn't I be in constant
attendance upon you ? "
" Yes ! " cried Mrs. Yarden, bursting into tears, " yes,
you would. I don't doubt it, Varden. Certainly you
BARNABY BUDGE.
93
would. That's as much as to tell me that you would
be hovering round me like a vulture, waiting till the
breath was out of my body, that you might go and
marry somebody else."
Miggs groaned in sympathy — a little short groan,
checked in its birth, and changed into a cough. It
seemed to say, 4 I can't help it. It's wrung from me by
the dreadful brutality of that monster master."
" But you'll break my heart one of these days," add jd
Mrs. Varden, with more resignation, " and then we shall
both be happy. My only desire is to see Dolly comfort-
ably settled, and when she is, you may settle me as soon
as you like."
" Ah ! " cried Miggs — and coughed again.
Poor Gabriel twisted his wig about in silence for a
long time, and then said mildly, " Has Dolly gone to
bed?"
" Your master speaks to you," said Mrs. Yarden, look-
ing sternly over her shoulder at Miss Miggs in waiting.
" No, my dear, I spoke to you," suggested the lock-
smith.
" Did you hear me, Miggs ?" cried the obdurate
lady, stamping her foot upon the ground. " You are
beginning to despise me now, are you? But this is
example!"
At this cruel rebuke, Miggs, whose tears were always
ready, for large or small parties, on the shortest notice
and the most reasonable terms, fell a-crying violently;
holding both her hands tight upon her heart meanwhile,
as if nothing less would prevent its splitting into small
fragments. Mrs. Yarden, who likewise possessed that
faculty in high perfection, wept too, against Miggs ; and
with such effect that Miggs gave in after a time, and,
94
BARNABY RUDGE.
except for an occasional sob, which seemed to threaten
some remote intention of breaking out again, left her
mistress in possession of the field. Her superiority
being thoroughly asserted, that lady soon desisted like-
wise, and fell into a quiet melancholy.
The relief was so great, and the fatiguing occurrences
of last night so completely overpowered the locksmith,
that he nodded in his chair, and would doubtless have
slept there all night, but for the voice of Mrs. Varden,
which, after a pause of some five minutes, awoke him
with a start.
" If I am ever," said Mrs. V. — not scolding, but in a
sort of monotonous remonstrance — " in spirits, if I am
ever cheerful, if I am ever more than usually disposed
to be talkative and comfortable, this is the way I am
treated."
" Such spirits as you was in too, mim, but half an
hour ago ! " cried Miggs. " I never see such company!"
" Because," said Mrs. Yarden, " because I never in-
terfere or interrupt, because I never question where any-
body comes or goes; because my whole mind and soul is
bent on saving where I can save, and laboring in this
house; — therefore, they try me as they do."
" Martha," urged the locksmith, endeavoring to look
as wakeful as possible, " what is it you complain of? I
really came home with every wish and desire to be
happy. I did, indeed."
" What do I complain of!" retorted his wife. " Is it
a chilling thing to have one's husband sulking and falling
asleep directly he comes home — to have him freezing
all one's warm-heartedness, and throwing cold water over
the fireside ? Is it natural, when I know he went out
upon a matter in which I am as much interested as any-
BARNABY RUDGE.
95
body can be, that I should wish to know all that has
happened, or that he should tell me without my begging
and praying him to do it? Is that natural, or is it
not ? "
" I am very sorry, Martha," said the good-natured
locksmith. " I was really afraid you were not disposed
to talk pleasantly; I'll tell you everything; I shall only
be too glad, my dear."
"No, Varden," returned his wife, rising with dignity.
" I dare say — thank you ! I'm not a child to be cor-
rected one minute and petted the next — I'm a little too
old for that, Varden. Miggs, carry the light. You can
be cheerful, Miggs, at least."
Miggs, who, to this moment, had been in the very
depths of compassionate despondency, passed instantly
into the liveliest state conceivable, and tossing her head
as she glanced towards the locksmith, bore off her mis-
tress and the light together.
" Now, who would think," thought Varden, shrugging
his shoulders and drawing his chair nearer to the fire,
" that that woman could ever be pleasant and agreeable ?
And yet she can be. Well, well, all of us have our
faults. I'll not be hard upon hers. We have been man
and wife too long for that."
He dozed again — not the less pleasantly, perhaps, for
his hearty 12mper. While his eyes were closed, the door
leading to the upper stairs was partially opened; and a
head appeared, which, at sight of him, hastily drew back
again.
"I wish," murmured Gabriel, waking at the noise,
and looking round the room, "I wish somebody would
marry Miggs. But that's impossible ! I wonder whether
there's any madman alive, who would marry Miggs ! "
96
BARNABY RUDGE
This was such a vast speculation that he fell into a
doze again, and slept until the fire was quite burnt out.
At last he roused himself; and having double-locked the
street-door according to custom, and put the key in his
pocket, went off to bed.
He had not left the room in darkness many minutes,
when the head again appeared, and Sim Tappertit en-
tered, bearing in his hand a little lamp.
" What the devil business has he to stop up so late!"
muttered Sim, passing into the workshop, and setting it
down upon the forge. " Here's half the night gone
already. There's only one good that has ever come to
me, out of this cursed old rusty mechanical trade, and
that's this piece of ironmongery, upon my soul!"
As he spoke, he drew from the right hand, or rather
right leg pocket of his smalls, a clumsy large-sized key,
which he inserted cautiously in the lock his master had
secured, and softly opened the door. That done, he re-
placed his piece of secret workmanship in his pocket;
and leaving the lamp burning, and closing the door care-
fully and without noise, stole out into the street — as
little suspected by the locksmith in his sound deep sleep,
as by Barnaby himself in his phantom-haunted dreams.
BARNABY RUDGE.
37
CHAPTER VIII.
Clear of the locksmith's house, Sim Tappertit laid
aside his cautious manner, and assuming in its stead that
of a ruffling, swaggering, roving blade, who would rather
kill a man than otherwise, and eat him too if needful,
made the best of his way along the darkened streets.
Half pausing for an instant now and then to smite his
pocket and assure himself of the safety of his master-key,
he hurried on to Barbican, and turning into one of the
narrowest of the narrow streets which diverged from
that centre, slackened his pace and wiped his heated
brow, as if the termination of his walk were near at
hand.
It was not a very choice spot for midnight expeditions,
being in truth one of more than questionable character,
and of an appearance by no means inviting. From the
main street he had entered, itself little better than an
alley, a low-browed door-way led into a blind court, or
yard, profoundly dark, unpaved, and reeking with stag-
nant odors. Into this ill-favored pit, the locksmith's
vagrant 'prentice groped his way ; and stopping at a
house from whose defaced and rotten front the rude
effigy of a bottle swung to and fro like some gibbeted
malefactor, struck thrice upon an iron grating with his
foot. After listening in vain for some response to his
signal, Mr. Tappertit became impatient, and struck the
grating thrice again.
vol. i. 7
98
BARNABY KUDGE.
A further delay ensued, but it was not of long dura-
tion. The ground seemed to open at his feet, and a
ragged head appeared.
" Is that the captain ?" said a voice as ragged as the
head.
" Yes," replied Mr. Tappertit haughtily, descending
as he spoke, " who should it be ?"
" It's so late, we gave you up," returned the voice, as
its owner stopped to shut and fasten the grating. " You're
late, sir."
"Lead on," said Mr. Tappertit, with a gloomy maj-
esty, "and make remarks when I require you. For-
ward!"
This latter word of command was perhaps somewhat
theatrical and unnecessary, inasmuch as the descent was
« by a very narrow, steep, and slippery flight of steps, and
any rashness or departure from the beaten track must
have ended in a yawning water-butt. But Mr. Tapper-
tit being, like some other great commanders, favorable to
strong effects, and personal display, cried "Forward!"
again, in the hoarsest voice he could assume; and led the
way, with folded arms and knitted brows, to the cellar
down below, where there was a small copper fixed in one
corner, a chair or two, a form and table, a glimmering
fire, and a truckle-bed, covered with a ragged patchwork
rug.
" Welcome, noble captain !" cried a lanky figure, ris-
"ng as from a nap.
The captain nodded. Then, throwing off his outer
coat, he stood composed in all his dignity, and eyed
his follower over.
" What news to-night?" he asked, when he had looked
into his very soul.
BARNABY RUDGE.
99
"Nothing particular," replied the other, stretching
himself— and he was so long already that it was
quite alarming to see him do it —" how come you to
be so late ? "
" No matter," was all the captain deigned to say in
answer. " Is the room prepared ? "
" It is," replied his follower. v
" The comrade — is he here ? "
" Yes. And a sprinkling of the others — you hear
'em ?"
" Playing skittles!" said the captain, moodily. " Light-
hearted revellers!"
There was no doubt respecting the particular amuse-
ment in which these heedless spirits were indulging, for
even in the close and stifling atmosphere of the vault,
the noise sounded like distant thunder. It certainly ap-
peared, at first sight, a singular spot to choose, for that
or any other purpose of relaxation, if the other cellars
answered to the one in which this brief colloquy took
place; for the floors were of sodden earth, the walls and
roof of damp bare brick tapestried with the tracks of
snails and slugs; the air was sickening, tainted, and of-
fensive. It seemed from one strong flavor which was
uppermost among the various odors of the place, that it
had, at no very distant period, been .used as a storehouse
for cheeses; a circumstance which, while it accounted for
the greasy moisture that hung about it, was agreeably
suggestive of rats. It was naturally damp besides, and
little trees of fungus sprung from every mouldering
corner.
The proprietor of this charming retreat, and owner of
the ragged head before mentioned — for he wore an old
lie-wig as bare and frouzy as a stunted hearth-broom —
100
BARNABY RUDGE.
had by this time joined them ; and stood a little apart,
rubbing his hands, wagging his hoary bristled chin, and
smiling in silence. His eyes were closed ; but had they
been wide open, it would have been easy to tell, from the
attentive expression of the face he turned towards them
— pale and unwholesome as might be expected in one
of his underground existence — and from a certain anx-
iou6 raising and quivering • of the lids, that he was
blind.
" Even Stagg hath been asleep," said the long com-
rade, nodding towards this person.
" Sound, captain, sound! " cried the blind man ; " what
does my noble captain drink — is it brandy, rum, usque-
baugh ? Is it soaked gunpowder, or blazing oil ? Give
it a name, heart of oak, and we'd get it for you, if it was
wine from a bishop's cellar, or melted gold from King
George's mint."
" See," said Mr. Tappertit haughtily, " that it's some-
thing strong, and comes quick ; and so long as you take
care of that, you may bring it from the devil's cellar, if
you like."
" Boldly said, noble captain !" rejoined the blind man.
" Spoken like the 'Prentices' Glory. Ha, ha! From the
devil's cellar ! A brave joke ! The captain joketh. Ha,
ha, ha!"
" I'll tell you what, my fine feller," said Mr. Tapper-
tit, eying the host over as he walked to a closet, and
took out a bottle and glass as carelessly as if he had
been in full possession of his sight, "if you make that
row, you'll find that the captain's very far from joking,
and so I tell you."
" He's got his eyes on me ! " cried Stagg, stopping
short on his way back, and affecting to screen his face
BARNABY RUDGE.
101
with the bottle. " I feel 'em though I can't see 'em.
Take 'em off, noble captain. Remove 'em, for they
pierce like gimlets."
Mr. Tappertit smiled grimly at his comrade ; and
twisting out one more look — a kind of ocular screw
— under the influence of which the blind man feigned
to undergo great anguish and torture, bade him, in a
softened tone, approach, and hold his peace.
"I obey you, captain," cried Stagg, drawing close to
him and filling out a bumper without spilling a drop, by
reason that he held his little finger at the brim of the glass,
and stopped at the instant the liquor touched it, " drink,
noble governor. Death to all masters, life to all 'pren-
tices, and love to all fair damsels. Drink, brave general,
and warm your gallant heart! "
Mr. Tappertit condescended to take the glass from his
outstretched hand. Stagg then dropped on one knee,
and gently smoothed the calves of his legs, with an air
of humble admiration.
" That I had but eyes ! " he cried, " to behold my cap-
tain's symmetrical proportions 1 That I had but eyes, to
look upon these twin invaders of domestic peace ! "
" Get out!" said Mr. Tappertit, glancing downward
at his favorite limbs. " Go along, will you Stagg! "
" When I touch my own afterwards," cried the host,
smiting them reproachfully, " I hate 'em. Comparative-
ly speaking, they've no more shape than wooden legs,
beside these models of my noble captain's."
^ " Yours !" exclaimed Mr. Tappertit. •' No, I should
think not. Don't talk about those precious old tooth-
picks in the same breath with mine: that's rather too
much. Here. Take the glass. Benjamin. Lead on.
To business!"
102
BARNABY RUDGE.
With these words, he folded his arms again; and
frowning with a sullen majesty, passed with his com-
panion through a little door at the upper end of the
cellar, and disappeared; leaving Stagg to his private
meditations.
The vault they entered, strewn with sawdust and
dimly lighted, was between the outer one from which
they had just come, and that in which the skittle-players
were diverting themselves ; as was manifested by the. in-
creased noise and clamor of tongues, which was suddenly
stopped, however, and replaced by a dead silence, at a
sigilal from the long comrade. Then, this young gentle-
man, going to a little cupboard, returned with a thigh-
bone, which in former times must have been part and
parcel of some individual at least as long as himself,
-and placed the same in the hands of Mr. Tappertit;
who, receiving it as a sceptre and staff of authority,
cocked his three-cornered hat fiercely on the top of his
head, and mounted a large table, whereon a chair of
state, cheerfully ornamented with a couple of skulls, was
placed ready for his reception.
He had no sooner assumed this position, than another
young gentleman appeared, bearing in his arms a huge
clasped book, who made him a profound obeisance, and
delivering it to the long comrade, advanced to the table,
and turning his back upon it, stood there Atlas-wise.
Then, the long comrade got upon the table too; and
seating himself in a lower chair than Mr. Tappertit's,
with much state and ceremony, placed the large book on
the shoulders of their mute companion as deliberately as
if he had been a wooden desk, and prepared to make
entries therein with a pen of corresponding size.
When the long comrade had made these preparations,
BARNABY BUDGE.
103
he looked towards Mr. Tappertit; and Mr. Tappertit,
flourishing the bone, knocked nine times therewith upon
one of the skulls. At the ninth stroke, a third young
gentleman emerged from the door leading to the skittle-
ground, and bowing low, awaited his commands.
"' Prentice ! " said the mighty captain, " who waits
without?"
The 'prentice made answer that a stranger was in at-
tendance, who claimed admission into that secret society
of 'Prentice Knights, and a free participation in their
rights, privileges, and immunities. Thereupon Mr. Tap-
pertit flourished the bone again, and giving the other
skull a prodigious rap on the nose, exclaimed " Admit
him !" At these dread words the 'prentice bowed once
more, and so withdrew as he had come.
There soon appeared at the same door, two other
'prentices, having between them a third, whose eyes
were bandaged, and who was attired in a bag-wig, and a
broad-skirted coat, trimmed with tarnished lace; and
who was girded with a sword, in compliance with the
laws of the Institution regulating the introduction of
candidates, which required them to assume this courtly
dress, and kept it constantly in lavender, for their con-
venience. One of the conductors of this novice held a
rusty blunderbuss pointed towards his ear, and the othei
a very ancient sabre, with which he carved imaginary
offenders as he came along in a sanguinary and anatomi-
cal manner.
As this silent group advanced, Mr. Tappertit fixed hi»
hat upon his head. The novice then laid his hand upon
his breast and bent before him. When he had humbled
nimself sufficiently, the captain ordered the bandage to
be removed, and proceeded to eye him over.
104
BARNABY RUDGE.
"Ha!" said the captain, thoughtfully, when he had
concluded this ordeal. " Proceed."
The long comrade read aloud as follows: — " Mark
Gilbert. Age, nineteen. Bound to Thomas Curzon,
hosier, Golden Fleece, Aldgate. Loves Curzon's daugh-
ter. Cannot say that Curzon's daughter loves him.
Should think it probable. Curzon pulled his ears last
Tuesday week."
" How ! " cried the captain, starting.
" For looking at his daughter, please you," said the
novice.
" Write Curzon down, Denounced," said the captain.
"Put a black cross against the name of Curzon."
" So please you," said the novice, " that's not the
worst — he calls his 'prentice idle dog, and stops his
beer unless he works to his liking. He gives Dutch
cheese, too, eating Cheshire sir, himself; and Sundays
out, are only once a month."
"This," said Mr. Tappertit gravely, "is a flagrant
case. Put two black crosses to the name of Curzon."
"If the society," said the novice, who was an ill-
looking, one-sided, shambling lad, with sunken eyes set
close together in his head —" if the society would burn
his house down — for he's not insured — or beat him
as he comes home from his club at night, or help me
to carry off his daughter, and marry her at the Fleet,
whether she gave consent or no" —
Mr. Tappertit waved his grizzly truncheon as an
admonition to him not to interrupt, and ordered three
black crosses to the name of Curzon.
" Which means," he said in gracious explanation,
* vengeance, complete and terrible. 'Prentice, do you
'ove the Constitution ? "
BARNABY RODGE.
105
To which the novice (being to that end instructed
by his attendant sponsors) replied "I do ! "
" The Church, the State, and everything established
•—but the masters?" quoth the captain.
Again the novice said " I do."
Having said it, he listened meekly to the captain,
who, in an address prepared for such occasions, told
him how that under that same Constitution (which was
kept in a strong box somewhere, but where exactly
he could not find out, or he would have endeavored
to procure a copy of it), the 'prentices had, in times
gone by, had frequent holidays of right, broken peo-
pie's heads by scores, defied their masters, nay, even
achieved some glorious murders in the streets, which
privileges had gradually been wrested from them, and
in all which noble aspirations they were now restrained;
how the degrading checks imposed upon them were
unquestionably attributable to the innovating spirit of
the times, and how they united therefore to resist all
change, except such change as would restore those
good old English customs, by which they would stand
or fall. After illustrating the wisdom of going back-
ward, by reference to that sagacious fish, the crab,
and the not unfrequent practice of the mule and don-
key, he described their general objects; which were
briefly vengeance on their Tyrant Masters (of whose
grievous and insupportable oppression no 'prentice could
entertain a moment's doubt) and the restoration, as
aforesaid, of their ancient rights and holidays; for
neither of which objects were they now quite ripe,
being barely twenty strong, but which they pledged
themselves to pursue with fire and sword when need-
ful. Then he described the oath which every member
10G
BAKNABY BUDGE.
of that small remnant of a noble body took, and which
was of a dreadful and impressive kind; binding him
at the bidding of his chief, to resist and obstruct the
Lord Mayor, sword-bearer, and chaplain; to despise
the authority of the sheriffs; and to hold the court
of aldermen as nought; but not on any account, in
case the fulness of time should bring a general rising
of 'prentices, to damage or in any way disfigure Tem-
pie Bar, which was strictly constitutional and always
to be approached with reverence. Having gone over
, these several heads with great eloquence and force,
and having further informed the novice that this society
had had its origin in his own teeming brain, stimulated
by a swelling sense of wrong and outrage, Mr. Tappertit
demanded whether he had strength of heart to take the
mighty pledge required, or whether he would withdraw
while retreat was yet within his power.
To this, the novice made rejoinder that he would take the
vow, though it should choke him ; and it was accordingly
administered with many impressive circumstances, among
which the lighting up of the two skulls with a candle-
end inside of each, and a great many flourishes with the
bone, were chiefly conspicuous; not to mention a variety
of grave exercises with the blunderbuss and sabre, and
some dismal groaning by unseen 'prentices without. All
these dark and direful ceremonies being at length com-
pleted, the table was put aside, the chair of state re-
moved, the sceptre locked up in its usual cupboard, the
doors of communication between the three cellars thrown
freely open, and the 'Prentice Knights resigned them-
delves to merriment.
But Mr. Tappertit, who had a soul above the vulgar
*erd, and who, on account of his greatness, could only
BARNABY RUDGE.
18?
afford to be merry now and then, threw himself on a
bench with the air of a man who was faint with dignity.
He looked with an indifferent eye, alike on skittles, cards,
and dice, thinking only of the locksmith's daughter, and
the base degenerate days on which he had fallen.
" My noble captain neither games, nor sings, nor
dances," said his host, taking a seat beside him. " Drink,
gallant general!"
Mr. Tappertit drained the proffered goblet to the
dregs; then thrust his hands into his pockets, and with
a lowering visage walked among the skittles, while his
followers (such is the influence of superior genius) re-
strained the ardent ball, and held his little shins in dumb
respect.
" If I had been born a corsair or a pirate, a brigand,
genteel highwayman or patriot — and they're the same
thing," thought Mr. Tappertit, musing among the nine-
pins, " I should have been all right. But to drag out a
ignoble existence unbeknown to mankind in general —
patience! I will be famous yet A voice within me
keeps on whispering Greatness. I shall burst out one
of these days, and when I do, what power can keep me
down ? I feel my soul getting into my head at the idea.
More drink there!"
" The novice," pursued Mr. Tappertit, not exactly in
a voice of thunder, for his tones, to say the truth, were
rather cracked and shrill, — but very impressively, not-
withstanding — " where is he ? "
" Here, noble captain !" cried Stagg. " One stands
beside me who I feel is a stranger."
" Have you," said Mr. Tappertit, letting his gaze
fall on the party indicated, who was indeed the new
snight, by this time restored to his own apparel;
10G
iU8
BARNABY RUDGE.
"have you the impression of your street-door key in
wax ? "
The long comrade anticipated the reply, by producing
it from the shelf on which it had been deposited.
"Good," said Mr. Tappertit, scrutinizing it attentively,
while a breathless silence reigned around ; for he had
constructed secret door-keys for the whole society, and
perhaps owed something of his influence to that mean
and trivial circumstance — on such slight accidents do
even men of mind depend! — " This is easily made.
Come hither, friend."
With that, he beckoned the new knight apart, and
putting the pattern in his pocket, motioned to him to
walk by his side.
" And so," he said, when they had taken a few turns
up and down, " you — you love your master's daughter ? "
" I do," said the 'prentice. " Honor bright. No chaff,
you know."
" Have you," rejoined Mr. Tappertit, catching him by
the wrist, and giving him a look which would have been
expressive of the most deadly malevolence, but for an
accidental hiccup that rather interfered with it; " have
you a — a rival ? "
" Not as I know on," replied the 'prentice.
" If you had now " — said Mr. Tappertit — " what
would you — eh ? " —
The 'prentice looked fierce and clinched his fists.
" It is enough," cried Mr. Tappertit hastily, " we un-
derstand each other. We are observed. I thank you."
So saying, he cast him off again; and calling the long
comrade aside after taking a few hasty turns by himself,
bade him immediately write and post against the wall, a
notice proscribing one Joseph Willet (commonly known
BARNABY RUDGE.
109
as Joe) of Chigwell; forbidding all 'Prentice Knights to
succor, comfort, or hold communion with him ; and re-
quiring them, on pain of excommunication, to molest,
hurt, wrong, annoy, and pick quarrels with the said
Joseph, whensoever and wheresoever they, or any of
them, should happen to encounter him.
Having relieved his mind by this energetic proceed-
ing, he condescended to approach the festive board, and
warming by degrees, at length deigned to preside, and
even to enchant the company with a song. After this,
he rose to such a pitch as to consent to regale the society
with a hornpipe, which he actually performed to the
music of a fiddle, (played by an ingenious member,) with
such surpassing agility and brilliancy of execution, that
the spectators could not be sufficiently enthusiastic in
their admiration ; and their host protested, with tears in
his eyes, that he had never truly felt his blindness until
that moment.
But the host withdrawing — probably to weep in se-
cret — soon returned with the information that it wanted
little more than an hour of day, and that all the cocks
in Barbican had already begun to crow, as if their
lives depended on it. At this intelligence, the 'Pren-
tice Knights arose in haste, and marshalling into a line,
filed off one by one and dispersed with all speed to
their several homes, leaving their leader to pass the
grating last.
" Good-night, noble captain," whispered the blind man
as he held it open for his passage out. " Farewell brave
general. By, by, illustrious commander. Good luck
go with you for a — conceited, bragging, empty-headed,
duck-legged idiot."
With which parting words, coolly added as he lis-
110
BARNABY RUDGE.
tened to his receding footsteps and locked the grate
upon himself, he descended the steps, and lighting the
fire below the little copper, prepared, without any as-
sistance, for his daily occupation ; which was to retail
at the area-head above pennyworths of broth and soup,
and savory puddings, compounded of such scraps as
were to be bought in the heap for the least money at
Fleet Market in the evening time; and for the sale of
which he had need to have depended chiefly on his
private connection, for the court had no thoroughfare,
and was not that kind of place in which many people
were likely to take the air, or to frequent as an agree-
able promenade.
barnaby rrdge.
Ill
CHAPTER IX.
Chroniclers are privileged to enter where they list,
to come and go through key-holes, to ride upon the wind,
to overcome, in their soarings up and down, all obstacles
of distance, time, and place. Thrice blessed be this last
consideration, since it enables us to follow the disdainful
Miggs even into the sanctity of her chamber, and to hold
her in sweet companionship through the dreary watches
of the night!
Miss Miggs, having undone her mistress, as she
phrased it (which means, assisted to undress her), and
having seen her comfortably to bed in the back-room
on the first floor, withdrew to her own apartment, in
the attic story. Notwithstanding her declaration in the
locksmith's presence, she was in no mood for sleep;
so, putting her light upon the table and withdrawing
the little window-curtain, she gazed out pensively at
the wild night sky.
Perhaps she wondered what star was destined for her
habitation when she had run her little course below;
perhaps speculated which of those glimmering spheres
might be the natal orb of Mr. Tappertit; perhaps mar-
veiled how they could gaze down on that perfidious
creature, man, and not sicken and turn green as chem-
ists' lamps; perhaps thought of nothing in particular.
Whatever she thought about, there she sat, until her
attention, alive to anything connected with the insinu-
112
BAKNABY KUDGE.
ating 'prentice, was attracted by a noise in the next
room to her own — his room ; the room in which he
slept, and dreamed — it might be, sometimes dreamed
of her.
That he was not dreaming now, unless he was taking
a walk in his sleep, was clear, for every now and then
there came a shuffling noise, as though he were engaged
in polishing the whitewashed wall; then a gentle creak-
ing of his door; then the faintest indication of his
stealthy footsteps on the landing-place outside. Noting
this latter circumstance, Miss Miggs turned pale and
shuddered, as mistrusting his intentions; and more than
once exclaimed, below her breath, " Oh ! what a Provi-
dence it is, as I am bolted in ! " — which, owing doubt-
less to her alarm, was a confusion of ideas on her part
between a bolt and its use; fpr though there was one
on the door, it was not fastened.
Miss Miggs's sense of hearing, however, having as
sharp an edge as her temper, and being of the same
snappish and suspicious kind, very soon informed her
that the footsteps passed her door, and appeared to have
some object quite separate and disconnected from her-
self. At this discovery she became more alarmed than
ever, and was about to give utterance to those cries of
* Thieves ! " and " Murder ! " which she had hitherto
restrained, when it occurred to her to look softly out,
and see that her fears had some good palpable foun-
dation.
Looking out accordingly, and stretching her neck
over the handrail, she descried, to her great amazement,
Mr. Tappertit completely dressed, stealing down-stairs,
one step at a time, with his shoes in one hand and a
lamp in the other. Following him with her eyes, and
BARNABY RUDGE.
113
going down a little way herself to get the better of an
intervening angle, she beheld him thrust his head in at
the parlor-door, draw it back again with great swiftness,
and immediately begin a retreat up-stairs with all pos-
sible expedition.
" Here's mysteries ! " said the damsel, when she was
safe in her own room again, quite out of breath. " Oh
gracious, here's mysteries ! "
The prospect of finding anybody out in anything,
would have kept Miss Miggs awake under the influence
of henbane. Presently she heard the step again, as she
would have done if it had been that of a feather en-
dowed with motion and walking down on tiptoe. Then
gliding out as before, she again beheld the retreating
figure of the 'prentice; again he looked cautiously in at
the parlor-door, but this- time, instead of retreating, he
passed in, and disappeared.
Miggs was back in her room, and had her head out
of the window, before an elderly gentleman could have
winked and recovered from it. Out he came at the
street-door, shut it carefully behind him, tried it with
his knee, and swaggered off, putting something in his
pocket as he went along. At this spectacle Miggs cried
" Gracious !" again, and then " Goodness gracious ! "
and then, " Goodness gracious me 1" and then, candle
in hand, went down-stairs as he had done. Coming to
the workshop, she saw the lamp burning on the forge,
and everything as Sim had left it.
" Why I wish I may only have a walking funeral, and
never be buried decent with a mourning-coach and
feathers, if the boy hasn't been and made a key for
his own self! " cried Miggs. " Oh the little villain 1"
This conclusion was not arrived at without consider-
vol.. i. 8
114
BARNABY RUDGE.
ation, and much peeping and peering about; nor was
it unassisted by the recollection that she had on several
occasions come upon the 'prentice suddenly, and found
him busy at some mysterious occupation. Lest the fact
of Miss Miggs calling him, on whom she stooped to cast
a favorable eye, a boy, should create surprise in any
breast, it may be observed that she invariably affected
to regard all male bipeds under thirty as mere chits
and infants; which phenomenon is not unusual in la-
dies of Miss Miggs's temper, and is indeed generally
found to be the associate of such indomitable and savage
virtue.
Miss Miggs deliberated within herself for some little
time, looking hard at the shop-door while she did so, as
though her eyes and thoughts were both upon it; and
then, taking a sheet of paper from a drawer, twisted
it into a long thin spiral tube. Having filled this in-
strument with a quantity of small coal-dust from the
forge, she approached the door, and dropping on one
knee before it, dexterously blew into the key-hole as
much of these fine ashes as the lock would hold. When
she had filled it to the brim in a very workmanlike and
skilful manner, she crept up-stairs again, and chuckled
as she went.
" There !" cried Miggs, rubbing her hands, " now
let's see whether you won't be glad to take some no-
tice of me, mister. He, he, he! You'll have eyes for
somebody besides Miss Dolly now, I think. A fat-faced
puss she is, as ever 1 come across! "■
As she uttered this criticism, she glanced approvingly
at her small mirror, as who should say, I thank my stars
that can't be said of me ; — as it certainly could not;
for Miss Miggs's style of beauty was of that kind which
BARNABY RUDGE.
llu
Mr. Tappertit himself had not inaptly termed, in private,
" scraggy."
" I don i go to bed this night! " said Miggs, wrapping
herself in a shawl, and drawing a couple of chairs near
the window, flouncing down upon one, and putting her
feet upon the other, " till you come home, my lad.
wouldn't," said Miggs, viciously, " no, not for five-and
forty pound ! " _
With that, and with an expression of face in which a
great number of opposite ingredients, such as mischief,
cunning, malice, triumph, and patient expectation, were
all mixed up together in a kind of physiognomical punch,
Miss Miggs composed herself to wait and listen, like
some fair ogress who had set a trap and was watching
for a nibble from a plump young traveller.
She sat there, with perfect composure, all night. At
length, just upon break of day, there was a footstep in
the street, and presently she could hear Mr. Tappertit
stop at the door. Then she could make out that he tried
his key — that he was blowing into it — that he knocked
it on the nearest post to beat the dust out — that he took
it under a lamp to look at it — that he poked bits of
stick into the lock to clear it — that he peeped into the
key-hole, first with one eye, and then with the other —
that he tried the key again — that he couldn't turn it,
and what was worse couldn't get it out — that he bent it
— that then it was much less disposed to come out than
before — that he gave it a mighty twist and a great pull,
and then it came out so suddenly that he staggered back-
wards — that he kicked the door — that he shook it —
finally, that he smote his forehead, and sat down on the
step in despair.
When this crisis had arrived, Miss Miggs, affecting to
116
BARISABY RUDGE.
be exhausted with terror, and to cling to the window-sill
for support, put out her nightcap, and demanded in a
faint voice who was there.
Mr. Tappertit cried " Hush!" and, backing into the
road, exhorted her in frenzied pantomime to secrecy and
silence.
" Tell me one thing," said Miggs. " Is it thieves ? "
" No — no — no! " cried Mr. Tappertit.
"Then," said Miggs, more faintly than before, "it's
fire. Where is it, sir? It's near this room, I know.
I've a good conscience, sir, and would much rather die
than go down a ladder. All I wish is, respecting my love
to my married sister, Golden Lion Court, number twenty-
sivin, second bell-handle on the right hand door-post."
" Miggs ! " cried Mr. Tappertit, " don't you know me ?
Sim, you know — Sim " —
" Oh ! what about him!" cried Miggs, clasping her
hands. " Is he in any danger ? Is he in the midst of
flames and blazes! Oh gracious, gracious ! "
" Why I'm here, a'n't I ? " rejoined Mr. Tappertit,
knocking himself on the breast. " Don't you see me ?
What a fool you are, Miggs!"
" There! " cried Miggs, unmindful of this compliment.
" Why — so it — Goodness, what is the meaning of—
If you please mim here's"— k
" No, no!" cried Mr. Tappertit, standing on tiptoe,
as if by that means he, in the street, were any nearer
being able to stop the mouth of Miggs in the garret.
" Don't! — I've been out without leave, and something
or another's the matter with the lock. Come down, and
undo the shop-window, that I may get in that way."
" I dursn't do it, Simmun," cried Miggs — for that
was her pronunciation of his Christian name. " I dursn't
BARNABY RUDGE.
117
do it, indeed. You know as well as anybody, how par-
ticular I am. And to come down in the dead of night,
when the house is wrapped in slumbers and weiled in
obscurity." And there she stopped and shivered, for her
modesty caught cold at the very thought.
"But Miggs," cried Mr. Tappertit, getting under the
lamp, that she might see his eyes. " My darling
Miggs"-
Miggs screamed slightly.
— " That I love so much, and never can help thinking
of," and it is impossible to describe the use he made of
his eyes when he said this — "do — for my sake, do."
" Oh Simmun," cried Miggs, " this is worse than all.
I know if I come down, you'll go, and " —
" And what, my precious !" said Mr. Tappertit.
" And try," said Miggs, hysterically, " to kiss me, or
some such dreadfulness ; I know you will! "
" I swear I won't," said Mr. Tappertit, with remark-
able earnestness. " Upon my soul I won't. It's getting
broad day, and the watchman's waking up. Angelic
Miggs! If you'll only come and let me in, I promise
you faithfully and truly I won't."
Miss Miggs, whose gentle heart was touched, did not
wait for the oath (knowing how strong the temptation
was, and fearing he might forswear himself), but tripped
lightly down the stairs, and with her own fair hands drew
back the rough fastenings of the workshop window.
Having helped the wayward 'prentice in, she faintly
ai ticulated the words " Simmun is safe !" and yielding
'o her woman's nature, immediately became insensible.
" I knew I should quench her," said Sim, rather em-
barrassed by this circumstance. " Of course I was cer-
tain it would come to this, but there was nothing else to
118
BARNABY RUDGE.
be done — it I hadn't eyed her over, she wouldn't have
come down. Here. Keep up a minute, Miggs. What
a slippery figure she is! There's no holding her, com-
fortably. Do keep up a minute, Miggs, will you ?"
As Miggs, however, was deaf to all entreaties, Mr.
Tappertit leant her against the wall as one might dis-
pose of a walking-stick or umbrella, until he had secured
the window, when he took her in his arms again, and, in
short stages and with great difficulty — arising mainly
from her being tall and his being short, and perhaps in
some degree from that peculiar physical conformation on
which he had already remarked — carried her up-stairs,
and planting her in the same umbrella or walking-stick
fashion, just inside her own door, left her to her repose.
" He may be as cool as he likes," said Miss Miggs, re-
covering as soon as she was left alone ; " but I'm in his
confidence and he can't help himself nor couldn't if h«
wa3 twenty Simmunses 1"
BARNABY BUDGE.
119
CHAPTER X-
It was on one of those mornings, common in early
spring, when the year, fickle and changeable in its youth
like all other created things, is undecided whether to
step backward into winter or forward into summer, and
in its uncertainty inclines now to the one and now to the
other, and now to both at once — wooing summer in the
sunshine, and lingering still with winter in the shade —
it was, in short, on one of those mornings, when it is hot
and cold, wet and dry, bright and lowering, sad and
cheerful, withering and genial, in the compass of one
short hour, that old John Willet, who was dropping
asleep over the copper boiler, was roused by the sound
of a horse's feet, and glancing out at window, beheld a
traveller of goodly promise checking his bridle at the
Maypole door.
He was none of your flippant young fellows, who would
call for a tankard of mulled ale, and make themselves as
much at home as if they had ordered a hogshead of wine;
none of your audacious young swaggerers, who would
even penetrate into the bar — that solemn sanctuary —
and, smiting old John upon the back, inquire if there was
never a pretty girl in the house, and where he hid his
little chambermaids, with a hundred other impertinences
of that nature ; none of your free-and-easy companions,
who world scrape their boots upon the fire-dogs in the
common room, and be not at all particular on the subject
120
BAfiNABY BUDGE.
of spi (toons ; none of your unconscionable blades, requir-
ing impossible chops, and taking unheard-of pickles for
granted. He was a staid, grave, placid gentleman, some-
thing past the prime of life, yet upright in his carriage,
for all that, and slim as a grayhound. He was well-
mounted upon a sturdy chestnut cob, and had the grace-
ful seat of an experienced horseman ; while his riding
gear, though free from such fopperies as were then in
vogue, was handsome and well chosen. He wore a
riding-coat of a somewhat brighter green than might
have been expected to suit the taste of a gentleman of
his years, with a short, black, velvet cape, and laced
pocket-holes and cuffs, all of a jaunty fashion ; his linen,
too, was of the finest kind, worked in a rich pattern at
the wrists and throat, and scrupulously white. Although
he seemed, judging from the mud he had picked up on
the way, to have come from London, his horse was as
smooth and cool as his own iron-gray periwig and pig-
tail. Neither man nor beast had turned a single hair;
and, saving for his soiled skirts and spatterdashes, this
gentleman with his blooming face, white teeth, exactly-
ordered dress, and perfect calmness, might have come
from making an elaborate and leisurely toilet, to sit for
an equestrian portrait at old John Willet's gate.
It must not be supposed that John observed these
several characteristics by other than very slow degrees,
or that he took in more than half a one at a time, or
that he even made up his mind upon that, without a
great deal of very serious consideration. Indeed, if he
had been distracted in the first instance by question-
ings and orders, it would have taken him at the least a
fortnight to have noted what is here set down ; but it
happened that the gentleman, being struck with the old
BAKNABY BUDGE.
121
house, or with the plump pigeons which were skimming
and courtesying about it, or with the tall maypole, on the
top of which a weathercock, which had been out of order
for fifteen years, performed a perpetual walk to the
music of its own creaking, sat for some little time look-
ing round in silence. Hence John, standing with his
hand upon the horse's bridle, and his great eyes on the
rider, and with nothing passing to divert his thoughts,
had really got some of these little circumstances into
his brain, by the time he was called upon to speak.
" A quaint place this," said the gentleman — and his
voice was as rich as his dress. " Are you the land-
lord?"
" At your service, sir," replied John Willet.
" You can give my horse good stabling, can you, and
me an early dinner (I am not particular what, so that it
be cleanly served), and a decent room — of which there
seems to be no lack in this great mansion," said the
stranger, again running his eyes over the exterior.
" You can have, sir," returned John, with a readiness
quite surprising, "anything you please."
"It's well I am easily satisfied," returned the other
with a smile, " or that might prove a hardy pledge, my
friend." And saying so, he dismounted, with the aid
of the block before the door, in a twinkling.
" Halloa there! Hugh !" roared John. " I ask your
pardon, sir, for keeping you standing in the porch; bu
my son has gone to town on business, and the boy being
as I may say, of a kind of use to me, I'm rather put
out when he's away. Hugh ! — a dreadful idle vagrant
fellow, sir — half a gypsy, as I think — always sleep-
!ng in the sun in summer, and in the straw in winter
time, sir — Hugh ! Dear Lord, to keep a gentleman a-
122
BARNABY RUDGE.
waiting here, through him ! — Hugh! I wish that chap
was dead, I do indeed."
" Possibly he is," returned the other. " I should think
if he were living, he would have heard you by this
time."
" In his fits of laziness, he sleeps so desperate hard,"
said the distracted host, " that if you were to fire off
cannon-balls into his ears, it wouldn't wake him, sir."
The guest made no remark upon this novel cure for
drowsiness, and recipe for making people lively, but
with his hands clasped behind him, stood in the porch,
apparently very much amused to see old John, with the
bridle in his hand, wavering between a strong impulse
to abandon the animal to his fate, and a half disposi-
tion to lead him into the house, and shut him up in
the parlor, while he waited on his master.
" Pillory the fellow, here he is at last!" cried John
in the very height and zenith of his distress. " Did
you hear me a-calling, villain ?"
The figure he addressed made no answer, but putting
his hand upon the saddle, sprung into it at a bound,
turned the horse's head towards the stable, and was gone
in an instant.
" Brisk enough when he is awake," said the guest.
" Brisk enough, sir !" replied John, looking at the
place where the horse had been, as if not yet under-
standing quite, what had become of him. " He melts,
I think. He goes like a drop of froth. You look at
nim and there he is. You look at him again, and —
there he isn't."
Having, in the absence of any more words, put this
sudden climax to what he had faintly intended should
be a long explanation of the whole life and character
BARNABY BUDGE.
123
»f his man, the oracular John Willet led the gentleman
up his wide dismantled staircase into the Maypole's best
apartment.
It was spacious enough in all conscience, occupying
the whole depth of the house, and having at either end
a great bay window, as large as many modern rooms;
in which some few panes of stained glass, emblazoned
with fragments of armorial bearings, though cracked,
and patched, and shattered, yet remained ; attesting, by
their presence, that the former owner had made the very
light subservient to his state, and pressed the sun itself
into his list of flatterers; bidding it, when it shone into
his chamber, reflect the badges of his ancient family, and
take new hues and colors from their pride.
But those were old days, and now every little ray
came and went as it would; telling the plain, bare search-
ing truth. Although the best room of the inn, it had the
melancholy aspect of grandeur in decay, and was much
too vast for comfort. Rich rustling hangings, waving
on the walls; and, better far, the rustling of youth and
beauty's dress ; the light of women's eyes, outshining the
tapers and their own rich jewels; the sound of gentle
tongues, and music, and the tread of maiden feet, had
once been there, and filled it with delight. But they
were gone, and with them all its gladness. It was no
longer a home; children were never born and bred
there ; the fireside had become mercenary — a some-
thing to be bought and sold — a very courtezan : let who
would die, or sit beside, or leave it, it was still the same
— it missed nobody, cared for nobody, had equal warmth
and smiles for all. God help the man whose heart evei
changes with the world, as an old mansion when it l>e-
comes an inn!
124
BARNABY RUDCJE.
No effort had been made to furnish this chilly waste,
but before the broad chimney a colony of chairs and
tables had been planted on a square of carpet, flanked
by a ghostly screen, enriched with figures, grinning and
grotesque. After lighting with his own hands the fag-
ots which were heaped upon the hearth, old John with
drew to hold grave council with his cook, touching the
stranger's entertainment; while the guest himself, seeing
small comfort in the yet unkindled wood, opened a lat-
tice in the distant window, and basked in a sickly gleam
of cold March sun.
Leaving the window now and then, to rake the crack-
ling logs together, or pace the echoing room from end to
end, he closed it when the fire was quite burnt up, and
having wheeled the easiest chair into the warmest corner,
summoned John Willet.
" Sir," said John.
He wanted pen, ink, and paper. There was an old
otandish on the high mantle-shelf containing a dusty
apology for all three. Having set this before him, the
landlord was retiring, when he motioned him to stay.
" There's a house not far from here," said the guest
when he had written a few lines, " which you call the
Warren, I believe?"
As this was said in the tone of one who knew the
fact, and asked the question as a thing of course, John
contented himself with nodding his head in the affirma-
tive; at the same time taking one hand out of his
pockets to cough behind, and then putting it in again.
" I want this note " — said the guest, glancing on
what he had written, and folding it, " conveyed there
without loss of time, and an answer brought back here
Have you a messenger at hand ? "
BARNABY RUDGE.
125
John was thoughtful for a minute or thereabouts, and
then said Yes.
" Let me see him," said the guest.
This was disconcerting ; for Joe being out, and Hugh
engaged in rubbing down the chestnut cob, he designed
sending on the errand, Barnaby, wbo had just then ar-
rived in one of his rambles, and who, so that he thought
himself employed on grave and serious business, would
go anywhere.
" Why, the truth is," said John after a long pause,
" that the person who'd go quickest, is a sort of natural,
as one may say, sir; and though quick of foot, and as
much to be trusted as the post itself, he's not good at
talking, being touched and flighty, sir."
" You don't," said the guest, raising his eyes to John's
fat face, " you don't mean— what's the fellow's name —
you don't mean Barnaby ? "
" Yes I do," returned the landlord, his features turning
quite expressive with surprise.
" How comes he to be here ? " inquired the guest, lean-
ing back in his chair; speaking in the bland, even tone,
from which he never varied ; and with the same soft,
courteous, never-changing smile upon his face. " I saw
him in London last night."
" He's, forever, here one hour, and there the next,"
returned old John, after the usual pause to get the ques-
tion in his mind.. "Sometimes he walks, and sometimes
runs. He's known along the road by everybody, and
sometimes comes here in a cart or chaise, and sometimes
riding double. He comes and goes, through wind, rain,
snow, and hail, and on the darkest nights. Nothing
hurts him."
" He goes often to this Warren, does he not ? " said
126
BARNABY RUDGE.
the guest carelessly. " I seem to remember his mother
telling me something to that effect yesterday. But I was
not attending to the good woman much."
" You're right, sir," John made answer, " he does.
His father, sir, was murdered in that house."
" So I have heard," returned the guest, taking a gold
toothpick from his pocket with the same sweet smile.
" A very disagreeable circumstance for the family."
"Very," said John with a puzzled look, as if it oc-
curred to him, dimly and afar off, that this might by pos-
sibility be a cool way of treating the subject.
" All the circumstances after a murder," said the guest
soliloquizing, " must be dreadfully unpleasant — so much
bustle and disturbance — no repose — a constant dwell-
ing upon one subject — and the running in and out, and
up and down stairs, intolerable. I wouldn't have such
a thing happen to anybody I was nearly interested in, on
any account. 'Twould be enough to wear one's life out.
— You were going to say, friend " — he added, turning
to John again.
" Only that Mrs. Rudge lives on a little pension from
the family, and that Barnaby's as free of the house as
any cat or dog about it," answered John. " Shall he do
your errand sir ? "
" Oh yes," replied the guest. " Oh certainly. Let
him do it by all means. Please to bring him here that
I may charge him to be quick. If he objects to come
you may tell him it's Mr. Chester. He will remem-
ber my name I dare say."
John was so very much astonished to find who his
visitor was, that he could express no astonishment at all,
Dy looks or otherwise, but left the room as if he were in
the most placid and imperturbable of all possible con-
BARNABY RUDGE.
127
ditions. It has been reported that when he got down-
stairs, he looked steadily at the boiler for ten minutes by
the clock, and all that time never once left off shaking
his head ; for which statement there would seem to be
some ground of truth and feasibility, inasmuch as that
interval of time did certainly elapse, before he returned
with Barnaby to the guest's apartment.
" Come hither lad," said Mr. Chester. " You know
Mr. Geoffrey Haredale ? "
Barnaby laughed, and looked at the landlord as though
he would say, " You hear him'{" John, who was greatly
shocked at this breach of decorum, clapped his finger to
his nose, and shook his head in mute remonstrance.
" He knows him, sir," said John, frowning aside at
Barnaby, " as well as you or I do."
" I haven't the pleasure of much acquaintance with
the gentleman," returned his guest. " You may have.
Limit the comparison to yourself, my friend."
Although this was said with the same easy affability,
and the same smile, John felt himself put down, and lay-
ing the indignity at Barnaby's door, determined to kick
his raven, on the very first opportunity.
" Give that," said the guest, who had by thi) time
sealed the note, and who beckoned his messenger tow-
ards him as he spoke, " into Mr. Haredale's own hands.
Wait for an answer, and bring it back to me — here.
If you should find that Mr. Haredale is engaged just
now, tell him — can he remember a message, land-
lord ? "
" When he chooses, sir," replied John. " He won't
forget this one."
" How are you sure of that ? "
John merely pointed to him as he stood with his head
128
BARNABY RUDGE.
bent forward, and his earnest gaze fixed closely on his
questioner's face; and nodded sagely.
" Tell hira then, Barnaby, should he be engaged," said
Mr. Chester, " that I shall be glad to wait his conven-
ience here, and to see him (if he will call) at any time
this evening. — At the worst I can have a bed here,
Willet, I suppose ? "
Old John, immensely flattered by the personal noto-
riety implied in this familiar form of address, answered,
with something like a knowing look, " I should believe
you could, sir," and was turning over in his mind various
forms of eulogium, with the view of selecting one appro-
priate to the qualities of his best bed, when his ideas
were put to flight by Mr. Chester giving Barnaby the
letter, and bidding him make all speed away.
"Speed!" said Barnaby, folding the little packet in
his breast, " Speed! If you want to see hurry and mys-
tery, come here. Here !"
With that, he put his hand, very much to John Willet's
horror, on the guest's fine broadcloth sleeve, and led him
stealthily to the back window.
" Look down there," he said softly; " do you mark
how they whisper in each other's ears; then dance and
leap, to make believe they are in sport ? Do you see
how they stop for a moment, when they think there is nc
one looking, and mutter among themselves again; and
then how they roll and gambol, delighted with the mis-
chief they've been plotting ? Look at 'em now. See
how they whirl and plunge. And now they stop again,
and whisper cautiously together — little thinking, mind,
how often I have lain upon the grass and watched them,
I say — what is it that they plot and hatch ? Do you
know ? "
BARNABY RUDGE.
129
" They are only clothes," returned the guest, " such
as we wear; hanging on those lines to dry, and fluttering
in the wind."
" Clothes!" echoed Barnaby, looking close into his
face, and falling quickly back. " Ha ha! Why, how
much better to be silly, than as wise as you! You don't
see shadowy people there, like those that live in sleep —
not you. Nor eyes in the knotted panes of glass, nor
swift ghosts when it blows hard, nor do you hear voices
in the air, nor see men stalking in the sky — not you !
I lead a merrier life than you, with all your cleverness.
You're the dull men. We're the bright ones. Ha ! ha!
I'll not change with you, clever as you are, — not I! "
With that, he waved his hat above his head, and
darted off.
" A strange creature, upon my word! " said the guest,
pulling out a handsome box, and taking a pinch of snuflf.
" He wants imagination," said Mr. Willet, very slowly
and after a long silence; " that's what he wants. I've
tried to instil it into him, many and many's the time;
but" — John added this, in confidence — " he a'n't made
for it; that's the fact"
To record that Mr. Chester smiled at John's remark
would be little to the purpose, for he preserved the same
conciliatory and pleasant look at all times. He drew his
chair nearer to the fire though, as a kind of hint that he
would prefer to be alone, and John, having no reasonable
excuse for remaining, left him to himself.
Very thoughtful old John Willet was, while the dinner
was preparing; and if his brain were ever less clear at
one time than another, it is but Reasonable to suppose
that he addled it in no slight degree by shaking his head
bo much that day. That Mr. Chester, between whom
vol. i 9
130
BARNABY RUDGE.
and Mr. Haredale, it was notorious to all the neighbor-
hood, a deep and bitter animosity existed, should come
down there for the sole purpose, as it seemed, of seeing
him, and should choose the Maypole for their place of
meeting, and should send to him express, were stum-
bling-blocks John could not overcome. The only re-
source he had, was to consult the boiler, and wait im-
patiently for Barnaby's return.
But Barnaby delayed beyond all precedent. The
visitor's dinner was served, removed, his wine was set,
the fire replenished, the hearth clean swept; the light
waned without, it grew dusk, became quite dark, and
still no Barnaby appeared. Yet, though John Willet
was full of wonder and misgiving, his guest sat cross-
legged in the easy-chair, to all appearance as little
ruffled in his thoughts as in his dress —-the same calm,
easy, cool, gentleman, without a care or thought beyond
his golden toothpick.
" Barnaby's late," John ventured to observe, as he
placed a pair of tarnished candlesticks, some three feet
high, upon the table, and snuffed the lights they held.
" He is rather so," replied the guest, sipping his wine.
" He will not be much longer, I dare say."
John coughed, and raked the fire together.
u As your roads bear no very good character, if I may
judge from my son's mishap, though," said Mr. Chester,
" and as I have no fancy to be knocked on the head —
which is not only disconcerting at the moment, but places
one, besides, in a ridiculous position with respect to the
people who chance to pick one up — I shall stop here to-
night. I think you said you had a bed to spare."
" Such a bed, sir," returned John Willet; " ay, such
a bed as few, even of the gentry's houses, own. A fixter
BARNABY RUDGE.
131
here, sir. I've heard say that bedstead is nigh two hun-
dred years of age. Your noble son — a fine young
gentleman — slept in it last, sir, half a year ago."
" Upon my life, a recommendation!" said the guest,
shrugging his shoulders and wheeling his chair nearer to
the fire. " See that it be well aired, Mr. Willet, and let
a blazing fire be lighted there at once. This house is
something damp and chilly."
John raked the fagots up again, more from habit
than presence of mind, or any reference to this remark,
and was about to withdraw, when a bounding step was
heard upon the stair, and Barnaby came panting in.
" He'll have his foot in the stirrup in an hour's time,"
he cried, advancing. " He has been riding hard all day
— has just come home — but will be in the saddle again
as soon as he has eat and drank, to meet his loving
friend."
" Was that his message ? " asked the visitor, looking
up, but without the smallest discomposure — or at least
without the smallest show of any.
" All but the last words," Barnaby rejoined. " He
meant those. I saw that, in his face."
" This for your pains," said the other, putting money
in his hand, and glancing at him steadfastly. " This for
your pains, sharp Barnaby.", "
" For Grip, and me, and Hugh, to share among us,"
he rejoined, putting it up, and nodding, as he counted it
on his fingers. ." Grip one, me two, Hugh three; the
dog, the goat, the cats — well, we shall spend it pretty
soon, I warn you. Stay. — Look. Do you wise men
see nothing there, now ? "
He bent eagerly down on one knee, and gazed intently
at the smoke, wl ich was rolling up the chimney in a
132
BARNABY RUDGE.
thick black cloud. John Willet, who appeared to con-
aider himself particularly and chiefly referred to under
the term wise men, looked that way likewise, and with
great solidity of feature.
" Now, where do they go to, when they spring so fast
up there," asked Barnaby ; " eh ? Why do they tread
so closely on each other's heels, and why are they al-
ways in a hurry — which is what you blame me for,
when I only take pattern by these busy folk about me.
More of 'era ! catching to each other's skirts ; and as fast
as they go, others come! What a merry dance it is ! I
would that Grip and I could frisk like that!"
" What has he in that basket at his back ? " asked the
guest after a few moments, during which Barnaby was
still bending down to look higher up the chimney, and
earnestly watching the smoke.
" In this ?" he answered, jumping up, before John
Willet could reply — shaking it as he spoke, and stoop-
ing his head to listen. " In this! What is there here ?
Tell him!"
" A devil, a devil, a devil!" cried a hoarse voice.
" Here's money !" said Barnaby, chinking it in his
hand, "money for a treat, Grip!"
" Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " replied the raven,
" keep up your spirits. Never say die. Bow, wow,
wow!"
Mr. Willet, who appeared to entertain strong doubts
whether a customer in a laced coat and fine linen could
be supposed to have any acquaintance even with the ex-
istence of such unpolite gentry as the bird claimed to be-
long to, took Barnaby off at this juncture, with the view
of preventing any other improper declarations, and quit-
ted the room with his very best bow.
BARNABY RUDGE.
133
CHAPTER XI.
There was great news that night for the regular
Maypole customers, to each of whom, as he straggled
in to occupy his allotted seat in the chimney-corner,
John with a most impressive slowness of delivery, and in
an apoplectic whisper, communicated the fact that Mr.
Chester was alone in the large room up-stairs, and
was waiting the arrival of Mr. Geoffrey Haredale, to
whom he had sent a letter (doubtless of a threatening
nature) by the hands of Barnaby, then and there present.
For a little knot of smokers and solemn gossips, who
had seldom any new topics of discussion, this was a per-
feet Godsend. Here was a good, dark-looking mystery
progressing under that very roof—brought home to the
fireside as it were, and enjoyable without the smallest
pains or trouble. It is extraordinary what a zest and
relish it gave to the drink, and how it "heightened the
flavor of the tobacco. Every man smoked his pipe with
a face of grave and serious delight, and looked at his
neighbor with a sort of quiet congratulation. Nay, it
was felt to be such a holiday and special night, that, on
the motion of little Solomon Daisy, every man (includ-
ing John himself) put down his sixpence for a can of
flip, which grateful beverage was brewed with all de-
spatch, and set down in the midst of them on the brick
floor; both that it might simmer and stew before the fire,
Mid that its fragrant steam, rising up among them and
134
BARNABY BUDGE.
mixing with the wreaths of vapor from their pipes,
might shroud them in a delicious atmosphere of their
own, and shut out all the world. The very furniture of
the room seemed to mellow and deepen in its tone; the
ceiling and walls looked blacker and more highly pol-
ished, the curtains of a ruddier red ; the fire burnt clear
and high, and the crickets in the hearth-stone chirped
with a more than wonted satisfaction.
There were present two, however, who showed but
little interest in the general contentment. Of these, one
was Barnaby himself, who slept, or to avoid being beset
with questions, feigned to sleep, in the chimney-corner;
the other, Hugh, who, sleeping too, lay stretched upon
the bench on the opposite side, in the full glare of the
blazing fire.
The light that fell upon this slumbering form, showed
it in all its muscular and handsome proportions. It was
that of a young man, of a hale athletic figure, and a
giant's strength, whose sunburnt face and swarthy throat,
overgrown with jet black hair, might have served a
painter for a model. Loosely attired, in the coarsest
and roughest garb, with scraps of straw and hay — his
usual bed — clinging here and there, and mingling with
his uncombed locks, he had fallen asleep in a posture as
careless as his dress. The negligence and disorder of
the whole man, with something fierce and sullen in his
features, gave him a picturesque appearance, that at
tracted the regards even of the Maypole customers who
knew him well, and caused Long Parkes to say that
Hugh looked more like a poaching rascal to-night than
ever he had seen him yet.
" He's waiting here, I suppose," said Solomon, " to
take Mr. Haredale's horse."
BABNABY BUDGE.
135
" That's it, sir," replied John Willet. " He's not often
in the house, you know. He's more at his ease among
horses than men. I look upon him as a animal him-
self."
Following up this opinion with a shrug that seemed
meant to say, " we can't expect everybody to be like us,'"
John put his pipe into his mouth again, and smoked like
one who felt his superiority over the general run of man-
kind.
" That chap, sir," said John, taking it out again after a
time, and pointing at him with the stem, " though he's
got all his faculties about him — bottled up and corked
down, if I may say so, somewheres or another" —
" Very good ! " said Parkes, nodding his head. " A
very good expression, Johnny. You'll be a-tackling
somebody presently. You're in twig to-night, I see."
" Take care," said Mr. Willet, not at all grateful for
the compliment, " that 1 don't tackle you, sir, which I
shall certainly endeavor to do, if you interrupt me when
I'm making observations. —- That chap, I was a-saying,
though he has all his faculties about him, somewheres or
another, bottled up and corked down, has no more imagi-
nation than Barnaby has. And why hasn't he ? "
The three friends shook their heads at each other;
saying by that action, without the trouble of opening
their lips, " Do you observe what a philosophical mind
our friend has ? "
" Why hasn't he ?" said John, gently striking the
'able with his open hand. " Because they was never
drawed out of him when he was a boy. That's why.
What would any of us have been, if our fathers hadn't
drawed our faculties out of us ? What would my boy
Joe have been, if I hadn't chawed his faculties out
136
BARNABY RUDGE.
of him ? — Do you mind what I'm a-saying of, gen-
tlemen ? "
" Ah! we mind you," cried Parkes. " Go on im-
proving of us, Johnny."
" Consequently, then," said Mr. Willet, " that chap,
whose mother was hung when he was a little boy,
along with six others, for passing bad notes—and it's
a blessed thing to think how many people are hung in
batches every six weeks for that, and such like of-
fences, as showing bow wide awake our government is
— that chap was then turned loose, and had to mind
cows, and frighten birds away, and what not, for a few
pence to live on, and so got on by degrees to mind
horses, and to sleep in course of time in lofts and lit-
ter, instead of under hay-stacks and hedges, till at last
he come to be hostler at the Maypole for his board and
lodging and a annual trifle — that chap that can't read
nor write, and has never had much to do with anything
but animals, and has never lived in any way but like
the animals he has lived among, is a animal. And,"
said Mr. Willet, arriving at his logical conclusion, " is
to be treated accordingly."
" Willet," said Solomon Daisy, who had exhibited
some impatience at the intrusion of so unworthy a
subject on their more interesting theme, " when Mr.
Chester come this morning, did he order the large
room ? "
" He signified, sir," said John, " that he wanted a
large apartment. Yes. Certainly."
" Why then, I'll tell you what," said Solomon, speak-
ing softly and with an earnest look. " He and Mr.
Haredale are going to fight a duel in it."
Everybody looked at "Mr. Willet, after this alarming
BARNABY RUDGE.
suggestion. Mr. Willet looked at the fire, weighing in
his own mind the effect which such an occurrence would
be likely to have on the establishment.
" Well," said John, " I don't know — I am sure — I
remember that when I went up last, he had put the
lights upon the mantle-shelf."
" It's as plain," returned Solomon, " as the nose on
Parkes's face" — Mr. Parkes, who had a large nose,
rubbed it, and looked as if he considered this a per-
sonal allusion —" they'll fight in that room. You
know by the newspapers what a common thing it is
for gentlemen to fight in coffee-houses without seconds.
One of 'em will be wounded or perhaps killed in this
house."
" That was a challenge that Barnaby took then, eh ? "
said John.
—"Enclosing a slip of paper with the measure of his
sword upon it, I'll bet a guinea," answered the little
man. " We know what sort of gentleman Mr. Hare-
dale is. You have told us what Barnaby said about his
looks, when he came back. Depend upon it, I'm right.
Now, mind."
The flip had had no flavor till now. The tobacco
had been of mere English growth, compared with its
present taste. A duel in that great old rambling room
up-stairs, and the best bed ordered already for the
wounded man!
"Would it be swords or pistols now?" said John.
" Heaven knows. Perhaps both," returned Solomon.
" The gentlemen wear swords, and may easily have pis-
'ols in their pockets — most likely have, indeed. If
they firs at each other without effect, then they'll draw,
and go to work in earnest."
138
BARNABY RUDGE.
A shade passed over Mr. Willet's face as he thought
of broken windows and disabled furniture, but be-
thinking himself that one of the parties would proba-
bly be left alive to pay the damage, he brightened up
again.
" And then," said Solomon, looking from face to
face, " then we shall have one of those stains upon
the floor that never come out. If Mr. Haredale wins,
depend upon it, it'll be a deep one; or if he loses,
it will perhaps be deeper still, for he'll never give
in unless he's beaten down. We know him better,
eh?"
" Better indeed ! " they whispered all together.
" As to its ever being got out again," said Solomon,
" I tell you it never will, or can be. Why, do you
know that it has been tried, at a certain house we are
acquainted with ? "
" The Warren ! " cried John. " No, sure ! "
" Yes, sure — yes. It's only known by very few.
It has been whispered about though, for all that. They
planed the board away, but there it was. They went
deep, but it went deeper. They put new boards down,
but there was one great spot that came through still,
and showed itself in the old place. And — harkye —
draw nearer — Mr. Geoffrey made that room his study,
and sits there, always, with his foot (as I have heard)
upon it; and he believes through thinking of it long
and very much, that it will never fade until he finds
the man who did the deed."
As this recital ended, and they all drew closer round
the fire, the tramp of a horse was heard without.
" The very man!" cried John, starting up. " Hugh.
Hugh!"
BARNABY RUDGE.
139
The sleeper staggered to his feet, and hurried after
him. John quickly returned, ushering in with great
attention and deference (for Mr. Haredale was his
landlord) the long expected visitor, who strode into
the room clanking his heavy boots upon the floor;
and looking keenly round upon the bowing group,
raised his hat in acknowledgment of their profound
respect.
" You have a stranger here, Willet, who sent to me,"
he said, in a voice which sounded naturally stern and
deep. " Where is he ? "
" In the great room up-stairs, sir," answered John.
" Show the way. Your staircase is dark, I know.
Gentlemen, good-night."
With that, he signed to the landlord to go on be-
fore; and went clanking out, and up the stairs; old
John, in his agitation, ingeniously lighting everything
but the way, and making a stumble at every second
step.
" Stop !" he said, when they reached the landing.
" 1 can announce myself. Don't wait."
He laid his hand upon the door, entered, and shut
it heavily. Mr. Willet was by no means disposed to
stand there listening by himself, especially as the walls
were very thick ; so descended with much greater
alacrity than he had come up, and joined his friends
below.
140
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER XII.
There was a brief pause in the state-room of the
Maypole, as Mr. Haredale tried the lock to satisfy
himself that he had shut the door securely, and, strid-
ing up the dark chamber to where the screen enclosed
a little patch of light and warmth, presented himself,
abruptly and in silence, before the smiling guest
If the two had no greater sympathy in their inward
thoughts than in their outward bearing and appearance,
the meeting did not seem likely to prove a very calm
or pleasant one. With no great disparity between them
in point of years, they were in every other respect, as
unlike and far removed from each other as two men
could well be. The one was soft-spoken, delicately
made, precise, and elegant; the other, a burly square-
built man, negligently dressed, rough and abrupt in
manner, stern, and, in his present mood, forbidding both
in look and speech. The one preserved a calm and
placid smile; the other a distrustful frown. The new-
eomer, indeed, appeared bent on showing by his every
tone and gesture his determined opposition and hostility
to the man he had come to meet. The guest who re-
1 ceived him, on the other hand, seemed to feel that the
contrast between them was all in his favor, and to de-
rive a quiet exultation from it which put him more at
his ease than ever.
" Haredale," said this gentleman, without the least
BAENABY BUDGE.
141
appearance of embarrassment or reserve, " 1 am very
glad to see you."
" Let us dispense with compliments. They are mis-
placed between us," returned the other, waving his
hand, " and say plainly what we have to say. You
have asked me to meet you. I am here. Why do
we stand face to face again ? "
" Still the same frank and sturdy character, I see!"
" Good or bad, sir, I am," returned the other, leaning
his arm upon the chimney-piece, and turning a haughty
look upon the occupant of the easy-chair, " the man I
used to be. I have lost no old likings or dislikings ;
my memory has not failed me by a hair's-breadth. You
ask me to give you a meeting. I say, I am here."
" Our meeting, Haredale," said Mr. Chester, tapping
his snuffbox, and following with a smile the impatient
gesture he had made — perhaps unconsciously — tow-
ards his sword, " is one of conference and peace, I
nope ? "
" I have come here," returned the other, " at your de-
sire, holding myself bound to meet you, when and where
you would. I have not come to bandy pleasant speeches,
or hollow professions. You are a smooth man of the
world, sir, and at such play have me at a disadvantage.
The very last man on this earth with whom I would
enter the lists to combat with gentle compliments and
masked faces, is Mr. Chester, I do assure you. I am not
his match at such weapons, and have reason to believe
that few men are."
" You do me a great deal of honor, Haredale," re-
turned the other, most composedly, " and I thank you. I
will be frank with you " —
" I beg your pardon — will be what ? "
142
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Frank — open — perfectly candid."
•' Hah ! " cried Mr. Haredale, drawing in his breath.
u But don't let me interrupt you."
" So resolved am I to hold this course," returned the
other, tasting his wine with great deliberation, " that 1
have determined not to quarrel with you, and not to be
betrayed into a warm expression or a hasty word."
" There again," said Mr. HaTedale, " you will have
me at a great advantage. Your self-command " —
" Is not to be disturbed, when it will serve my purpose,
you would say,"—• rejoined the other, interrupting him
with the same complacency. " Granted. I allow it.
And I have a purpose to serve now. So have you.
I am sure our object is the same. Let us attain it
like sensible men, who have ceased to be boys some
time. — Do you drink ? "
" With my friends," returned the other.
" At least," said Mr. Chester, " you will be seated ? "
" I will stand," returned Mr. Haredale, impatiently,
" on this dismantled beggared hearth, and not pollute
it, fallen as it is, with mockeries. Go on!"
" You are wrong, Haredale," said the other, crossing
his legs, and smiling as he held his glass up in the bright
glow of the fire. " You are really very wrong. The
world is a lively place enough, in which we must accom-
modate ourselves to circumstances, sail with the stream
as glibly as we can, be content to take froth for sub-
stance, the surface for the depth, the counterfeit for the
real coin. I wonder no philosopher has ever established
that our globe itself is hollow. It should be, if Nature
is consistent in her works."
" You think it is, perhaps ? "
" I should say," he returned, sipping his wine, " there
BARNABY RUDGE.
143
could be no doubt about it. Well; we, in our trilling
with this jingling toy, have had the ill luck to jostle and
fall out. We are not what the world calls friends; but
we are as good and true and loving friends for all that,
as nine out of every ten of those on whom it bestows
the title. You have a niece, and I a son — a fine lad,
Haredale, but foolish. They fall in love with each
other, and form what this same world calls an attach-
ment; meaning a something fanciful and false like all
the rest, which, if it took its own free time, would break
like any other bubble. But it may not have its own free
time — will not, if they are left alone — and the ques-
tion is, shall we two, because society calls us enemies,
stand aloof, and let them rush into each other's arms,
when, by approaching each other sensibly, as we do now,
we can prevent it, and part them ? "
" I love my niece," said Mr. Haredale, after a short
silence. " It may sound strangely in your ears; but I
love her."
" Strangely, my good fellow !" cried Mr. Chester,
lazily filling his glass again, and pulling out his tooth-
pick. " Not at all. I like Ned too — or, as you say,
love him — thafs the word among such near relations.
I'm very fond of Ned. He's an amazingly good fellow,
and a handsome fellow — foolish and weak as yet; that's
all. But the thing is, Haredale — for I'll be very frank,
as I told you I would at first — independently of any dis-
like that you and I might have to being related to each
other, and independently of the religious differences be-
tween us — and damn it, that's important — I couldn't
afford a match of this description. Ned and I couldn't
do it. It's impossible."
" Curb your tongue, in God's name, if this conver'sa-
144
BARNABY RUDGE.
tion is to last," retorted Mr. Haredale fiercely. " I have
said I love my niece. Do you think that, loving her,
I would have her fling her heart away on any man who
had your blood in his veins ? "
" You see," said the other, not at all disturbed, " the
advantage of being so frank and open. Just what I was
about to add, upon my honor! I am amazingly attached
to Ned — quite doat upon him, indeed — and even if we
could afford to throw ourselves away, that very objection
would be quite insuperable. — I wish you'd take some
wine."
" Mark me," said Mr. Haredale, striding to the table,
and laying his hand upon it heavily. " If any man be-
lieves — presumes to think — that I, in word, or deed,
or in the wildest dream, ever entertained remotely the
idea of Emma Haredale's favoring the suit of one who
was akin to you — in any way — I care not what — he
lies. He lies, and does me grievous wrong, in the mere
thought."
" Haredale," returned the other, rocking himself to and
fro as in assent, and nodding at the fire, * it's extremely
manly, and really very generous in you to meet me in
this unreserved and handsome way. Upon my word,
those are exactly my sentiments, only expressed with
much more force and power than I could use — you
know my sluggish nature, and will forgive me, I am
sure."
" While I would restrain her from all correspondence
with your son, and sever their intercourse here, though it
should cause her death," said Mr. Haredale, who had
been pacing to and fro, " I would do it kindly and ten-
derly if I can. I have a trust to discharge which my
nature is not formed to understand, and, for this rea-
BARNABY RUDGE.
14a
ion, the bare fact of there being any love between them
comes upon me to-night, almost for the first time."
" I am more delighted than I can possibly tell you,"
rejoined Mr. Chester with the utmost blandness, " to find
my own impression so confirmed. You see the ad^ an-
tage of our having met. We understand each other.
We quite agree. We have a most complete and
thorough explanation, and we know what course to
take. — Why don't you taste your tenant's wine ? It's
really very good."
" Pray who," said Mr. Haredale, " have aided Emma,
or your son ? Who are their go-betweens, and agents —
do you know ? "
" All the good people hereabouts — the neighborhood
in general, I think," returned the other, with his most
affable smile. " The messenger I sent to you to-day,
foremost among them all."
" The idiot ? Barnaby ? "
" You are surprised ? I am glad of that, for I was
rather so myself. Yes. 1 wrung that from his mother
— a very decent sort of woman — from whom, indeed, I
chiefly learnt how serious the matter had become, and so
determined to ride out here to-day, and hold a parley
with you on this neutral ground. — You're stouter than
you used to be, Haredale, but you look extremely well."
" Our business, I presume, is nearly at an end," said
Mr. Haredale, with an expression of impatience he was
nt no pains to conceal. " Trust me, Mr. Chester, my
niece shall change from this time. I will appeal," he
added in a lower tone, " to her woman's heart, her dig-
nity, her pride, her duty" —
" I shall do the same by Ned," said Mr. Chester, re-
storing some errant fagots to their places in the grate
Vut. i. 10
146
BARNABY RUDGE
with the toe of his boot. " If there is anything real in
the world, it is those amazingly fine feelings and those
natural obligations which must subsist between father
and son. I shall put it to him on every ground of
moral and religious feeling. I shall represent to him
that we cannot possibly afford it — that I have always
looked forward to his marrying well, for a genteel pro-
vision for myself in the autumn of life — that there are
a great many clamorous dogs to pay, whose claims are
perfectly just and right, and who must be paid out of
his wife's fortune. In short that the very highest and
most honorable feelings of our nature, with every con-
sideration of filial duty and affection, and all that sort of
thing, imperatively demand that he should run away with
an heiress."
" And break her heart as speedily as possible ? " said
Mr. Haredale, drawing on his glove.
" There Ned will act exactly as he pleases," returned
the other, sipping his wine; " that's entirely his affair.
I wouldn't for the world interfere with my son, Hare-
dale, beyond a certain point. The relationship between
father and son, you know, is positively quite a holy kind
of bond. — Won't you let me persuade you to take one
glass of wine ? Well! as you please, as you please,"
he added, helping himself again.
" Chester," said Mr. Haredale, after a short silence,
during which he had eyed his smiling face from time to
time intently, " you have the head and heart of an evil
spirit in all matters of deception."
" Your health ! " said the other, with a nod. " But I
have interrupted you " —
" If now," pursued Mr. Haredale, " we should find it
difficult to separate these young people, and break off
BAKNABY KUDGE.
147
their intercourse — if, for instance, you find it difficult on
your side, what course do you intend to take ? "
" Nothing plainer, my good fellow, nothing easier," re-
turned the other, shrugging his shoulders and stretching
himself more comfortably before the fire. " I shall then
exert those powers on which you flatter me so highly —
though, upon my word, I don't deserve your compliments
to their full extent — and resort to a few little trivial
subterfuges for rousing jealousy and resentment. You
see ? "
" In short, justifying the means by the end, we are,
as a last resource for tearing them asunder, to resort
to treachery and — and lying," said Mr. Haredale.
" Oh dear no. Fie, fie ! " returned the other, relishing
a pinch of snuff extremely. " Not lying. Only a little
management, a little diplomacy, a little — intriguing,
that's the word."
" I wish," said Mr. Haredale, moving to and fro, and
stopping, and moving on again, like one who was ill at
ease, " that this could have been foreseen or prevented.
But as it has gone so far, and it is necessary for us to
act, it is of no use shrinking or regretting. Well! I
shall second your endeavors to the utmost of my power.
There is one topic in the whole wide range of human
thoughts on which we both agree. We shall act in con-
cert, but apart. There will be no need, I hope, for us to
meet again."
" Are you going ?" said Mr. Chester, rising with a
graceful indolence. " Let me light you down the
stairs."
" Pray keep your seat," returned the other dryly, " I
snow the way." So, waving his hand slightly, and put-
ting on his hat as he turned upon his heel, he went clank-
148
BARNABY KUDGF.
lug out as he had come, shut the door behind him, and
tramped down the echoing stairs.
" Pah! A very coarse animal, indeed!" said Mr.
Chester, composing himself in the easy-chair again. " A
rough brute. Quite a human badger 1"
John Willct and his friends, who had been listening
intently for the clash of swords, or firing of pistols in the
great room, and had indeed settled the order in which
they should rush in when summoned — in which proces-
sion old John had carefully arranged that he should bring
up the rear — were very much astonished to see Mr.
Haredale come down without a scratch, call for his horse,
and ride away thoughtfully at a footpace. After some
consideration, it was decided that he had left the gentle-
man above, for dead, and had adopted this stratagem to
divert suspicion or pursuit.
As this conclusion involved the necessity of their going
up-stairs forthwith, they were about to ascend in the
order they had agreed upon, when a smart ringing at
the guest's bell, as if he had pulled it vigorously, over-
threw all their speculations, and involved them in great
uncertainty and doubt. At length Mr. Willet agreed to
go up-stairs himself, escorted by Hugh and Barnaby, as
the strongest and stoutest fellows on the premises, who
were to make their appearance under pretence of clear-
ing away the glasses.
Under this protection, the brave and broad-faced John
boldly entered the room, half a foot in advance, and re-
ceived an order for a boot-jack without trembling. But
when it was brought, and he leant his sturdy shoulder^)
the guest, Mr. Willet was observed to look very hard
into his boots as he pulled them off, and, by opening his
eyes much wider than usual, to appear to express some
BARNABY RUDGE.
149
surprise and disappointment at not finding them full of
blood. He took occasion, too, to examine the gentleman
as closely as he could, expecting to discover sundry loop-
holes in his person, pierced by his adversary's sword.
Finding none, however, and observing in course of time
that his guest was as cool and unruffled, both in his dress
and temper, as he had been all day, old John at last
heaved a deep sigh, and began to think no duel had
been fought that night.
" And now, Willet," said Mr. Chester, " if the room's
well aired, I'll try the merits of that famous bed."
"The room, sir," returned John, taking up a candle,
and nudging Barnaby and Hugh to accompany them, in
case the gentleman should unexpectedly drop down faint
or dead from some internal wound, " the room's as warm
as any toast in a tankard. Barnaby, take you that other
candle, and go on before. Hugh! Follow up, sir, with
the easy-chair."
In this order — and still, in his earnest inspection,
holding his candle very close to the guest; now making
him feel extremely warm about the legs, now threatening
to set his wig on fire, and constantly begging his pardon
with great awkwardness and embarrassment — John led
the party to the best bedroom, which was nearly as large
as the chamber from which they had come, and held,
drawn out near the fire for warmth, a great old spectral
bedstead, hung with faded brocade, and ornamented, at
the top of each carved post, with a plume of feathers that
had once been white, but with dust and age had now
grown hearse-like and funereal.
" Good-night, my friends," said Mr. Chester with a
sweet smile, seating himself, when he had surveyed the
room from end to end, in the easy-chair which his at-
150
BARNABY RUDGE.
lendants wheeled before the fire. " Good-night! Bar-
naby, my good fellow, you say some prayers before you
go to bed, I hope ? "
Barnaby nodded. " He has some nonsense that he
calls his prayers, sir," returned old John, officiously.
"I'm afraid there a'n't much good in 'em."
" And Hugh ? " said Mr. Chester, turning to him.
" Not I," he answered. " I know his " — pointing to
Barnaby — " they're well enough. He sings 'em some-
times in the straw. I listen."
" He's quite a animal, sir," John whispered in his ear
with dignity. " You'll excuse him, I'm sure. If he has
any soul at all, sir, it must be such a very small one, that
it don't signify what he does or doesn't in that way.
Good-night, sir!"
The guest rejoined " God bless you !" with a fervor
that was quite affecting; and John, beckoning his guards
to go before, bowed himself out of the room, and left him
to his rest in the Maypole's ancient bed.
BARNABY EDDGE.
151
CHAPTER XIII.
If Joseph Willet, the denounced and proscribed of
'prentices, had happened to be at home when his father's
courtly guest presented himself before the Maypole door
— that is, if it had not perversely chanced to be one of
the half dozen days in the whole year on which he was
at liberty to absent himself for as many hours without
question or reproach—he would have contrived, by
hook or crook, to dive to the very bottom of Mr. Ches-
ter's mystery, and to come at his purpose with as much
certainty as though he had been his confidential adviser.
In that fortunate case, the lovers would have had quick
warning of the ills that threatened them, and the aid of
various timely and wise suggestions to boot; for all Joe's
readiness of thought and action, and all his sympathies
and good wishes, were enlisted in favor of the young
people, and were stanch in devotion to their cause.
Whether this disposition arose out of his old preposses-
sions in favor of the young lady, whose history had sur-
rounded her in his mind, almost from his cradle, with
circumstances of unusual interest; or from his attach-
ment towards the young gentleman, into whose conli-
dence he had, through his shrewdness and alacrity,
and the rendering of sundry important services as a spy
and messenger, almost imperceptibly glided; whether
they had their origin in either of these sources, or in the
habit natural to youth, or in the constant badgering and
152
BARNABY RUDGE.
worrying of his venerable parent, or in any hidden little
love-affair of his own which gave him something of a
fellow-feeling in the matter, it is needless to inquire —
especially as Joe was out of the way, and had no oppor-
tunity on that particular occasion of testifying to his
sentiments either on one side or the other.
It was, in fact, the twenty-fifth of March, which, as
most people know to their cost, is and has been time out
of mind, one of those unpleasant epochs termed quarter-
days. On this twenty-fifth of March, it was John Willet's
pride annually to settle, in hard cash, his account with a
certain vintner and distiller in the city of London; to
give into whose hands a canvas bag containing its exact
amount, and not a penny more or less, was the end and
object of a journey for Joe, so surely as the year and
day came round.
This journey was performed upon an old gray mare,
concerning whom John had an indistinct set of ideas
hovering about him, to the effect that she could win a
plate or cup if she tried. She never had tried, and
probably never would now, being some fourteen or
fifteen years of age, short in wind, long in body, and
rather the worse for wear in respect of her mane and
tail. Notwithstanding these slight defects, John per-
fectly gloried in the animal; and when she was brought
round to the door by Hugh, actually retired into the
bar, and there, in a secret grove of lemons, laughed with
pride.
" There's a bit of horseflesh, Hugh !" said John, when
he had recovered enough self-command to appear at the
door again. " There's a comely creatur! There's high
mettle ! There's bone !"
There was bone enough beyond all doubt; and so
BARNABY RUDGE.
153
Hugh seemed to think, as he sat sideways in the saddle,
lazily doubled up with his chin nearly touching his
knees; and heedless of the dangling stirrups and loose
bridle-rein, sauntered up and down on the little green
before the door.
"Mind you take good care of her, sir," said John,
appealing from this insensible person to his son and heir,
who now appeared, fully equipped and ready. " Don't
you ride hard."
" I should be puzzled to do that, 1 think, father," Joe
replied, casting a disconsolate look at the animal.
" None of your impudence, sir, if you please," retorted
old John. " What would you ride, sir ? A wild ass or
zebra would be too tame for you, wouldn't he, eh, sir ?
You'd like to ride a roaring lion, wouldn't you, sir, eh,
sir ? Hold your tongue, sir." When Mr. Willet, in his
differences with his son, had exhausted all the questions
that occurred to him, and Joe had said nothing at all
in answer, he generally wound up by bidding him hold
his tongue.
" And what does the boy mean," added Mr. Willet,
after he had stared at him for a little time, in a species
of stupefaction, " by cocking his hat to such an extent!
Are you a-going to kill the wintner, sir ? "
" No," said Joe, tartly ; " I'm not. Now your mind's
at ease, father."
" With a milintary air, too! " said Mr. Willet, survey
ing him from top to toe ; " with a swaggering, fire-eating
biling-water drinking sort of way with him! And what
do you mean by pulling up the crocuses and snowdrops,
eh sir ? "
" It's only a little nosegay," said Joe, reddening.
* There's no harm in that, I hope ? "
154
BARNABY RUDGE.
" You'ro a boy of business, you are, sir!" said Mr.
Willet, disdainfully, " to go supposing that wintners care
for nosegays."
" I don't suppose anything of the kind," returned Joe.
" Let them keep their red noses for bottles and tank-
rds. These are going to Mr. Yarden's house."
"And do you suppose he minds such things as cro-
cuses P " demanded John.
"I don't know, and to say the truth, I don't care,"
said Joe. " Come father, give me the money, and in the
name of patience Jet me go."
" There it is, sir," replied John; " and take care of
it; and mind you don't make too much haste back, but
give the mare a long rest. — Do you mind ? "
" Ay, I mind," returned Joe. " She'll need it, Heaven
knows."
" And don't you score up too much at the Black Lion,"
said John. " Mind that too."
"Then why don't you let me have some money of
my own ? " retorted Joe, sorrowfully ; " why don't you,
father? What do you send me into London for, giv-
ing me only the right to call for my dinner at the Black
Lion, which you're to pay for next time you go, as if
I was not to be trusted with a few shillings ? Why
do you use me like this ? It's not right of you. You
can't expect me to be quiet under it."
"Let him have money!" cried John in a drowsy
revery. " What does he call money — guineas ? Hasn't
he got money ? Over and above the tolls, hasn't he one
and sixpence ? "
" One and sixpence ! " repeated his son contemptu-
ously.
"Yes, sir," returned John, "one and sixpence. When
BARNABY RUDGE.
155
I was your age, I had never seen so much money, in
a heap. A shilling of it is in case of accidents — the
mare casting a shoe, or the like of that. The other
sixpence is to spend in the diversions of London; and
the diversion I recommend is going to the top of the
Monument, and sitting there. There's no temptation
there, sir no drink — no young women — no bad
characters of any sort — nothing but imagination. That's
the way I enjoyed myself when I was your age, sir."
To this, Joe made no answer, but beckoning Hugh,
leaped into the saddle and rode away; and a very stal-
wart, manly horseman he looked, deserving a better
charger than it was his fortune to bestride. John stood
staring after him, or. rather after the gray mare (for he
had no eyes for her rider), until man and beast had
been out of sight some twenty minutes, when he began
to think they were gone, and slowly reentering the house,
fell into a gentle doze.
The unfortunate gray mare, who was the agony of
Joe's life, floundered along at her own will and pleas-
ure until the Maypole was no longer visible, and then,
contracting her legs into what in a puppet would have
been looked upon as a clumsy and awkward imitation of
a canter, mended her pace all at once, and did it of her
own accord. The acquaintance with her rider's usual
mode of proceeding, which suggested this improvement
in hers, impelled her likewise to turn up a by-way, lead-
ing — not to London, but through lanes running parallel
with the road they had come, and passing within a few
hundred yards of the Maypole, which led finally to an
enclosure surrounding a large, old, red-brick mansion —
the same of which mention was made as the Warren in
the first chapter of this history. Coming to a dead stop
156
BARNABY RUDGE.
in a little copse thereabout, she suffered her rider to
dismount with right go* >d-will, and to tie her to the trunk
of a tree.
" Stay there, old girl,'" said Joe, " and let us see
whether there's any little commission for me to-day."
So saying, he left her to browze upon such stunted
grass and weeds as happened to grow within the length
of her tether, and passing through a wicket gate, entered
the grounds on foot.
The pathway, after a very few minutes' walking,
brought him close to the house, towards which, and
especially towards one particular window, he directed
many covert glances. It was a dreary, silent build-
ing, with echoing court-yards, desolated turret-chambers,
and whole suites of rooms shut up and mouldering
to ruin.
The terrace-garden, dark with the shade of overhang-
ing trees, had an air of melancholy that was quite op-
pressive. Great iron gates, disused for many years, and
red with rust, drooping on their hinges and overgrown
with long rank grass, seemed as though they tried to
sink into the ground, and hide their fallen state among
the friendly weeds. The fantastic monsters on the walls,
green with age and damp, and covered here and there
with moss, looked grim and desolate. There was a
6ombre aspect even on that part of the mansion which
was inhabited and kept in good repair, that struck the
beholder with a sense of sadness; of something forlorn
and failing, whence cheerfulness was banished. It would
have been difficult to imagine a bright fire blazing in the
dull and darkened rooms, or to picture any gayety of
heart or revelry that the frowning walls shut in. It
seemed a place where such things had been, but could
BARNABY RUDGE.
157
be no more — the very ghost of a house, haunting the
old spot in its old outward form, and that was all.
Much of this decayed and sombre look was attribu-
table, no doubt, to the death of its former master, and the
temper of its present occupant; but remembering the
tale connected with the mansion, it seemed the very
place for such a deed, and one that might have been
its predestined theatre years upon years ago. Viewed
with reference to this legend, the sheet of water where
the steward's body had been found appeared to wear a
black and sullen character, such as no other pool might
own; the bell upon the roof that had told the tale of
murder to the midnight wind, became a very phantom
whose voice would raise the listener's hair on end; and
every leafless bough that nodded to another, bad its
stealthy whispering of the crime.
Joe paced up and down the path, sometimes stopping
in affected contemplation of '.he building or the prospect,
sometimes leaning against a tree with an assumed air
of idleness and indifference, but always keeping an eye
upon the window he had singled out at first. After some
quarter of an hour's delay, a small white hand was
waved to him for an instant from this casement, and the
young man, with a respectful bow, departed ; saying
under his breath as he crossed his horse again, " No
errand for me to-day !"
But the air of smartness, the cock of the hat to which
John Willet had objected, and the spring nosegay, all
betokened some little errand of his own, having a more
interesting object than a vintner or even a locksmith.
So, indeed, it turned out; for when he had settled with
the vintner — whose place of business was down in some
deep cellars hard by Thames-street, and who was as
158
BAKNABY KUJJGE.
purple-faced an old gentleman as if he had all his life
supported their arched roof on his head — when he had
settled the account, and taken the receipt, and declined
tasting more than three glasses of old sherry, to the
unbounded astonishment of the purple-faced vintner
who, gimlet in hand, had projected an attack upon at
least a score of dusty casks, and who stood transfixed, or
morally gimleted as it were, to his own wall — when
he had done all this, and disposed besides of a frugal
dinner at the Black Lion in Whitechapel ; spurning
the Monument and John's advice, he turned his steps
towards the locksmith's house, attracted by the eyes of
blooming Dolly Varden.
Joe was by no means a sheepish fellow, but, for all
that, when he got to the corner of the street in which
the locksmith lived, he could by no means make up his
mind to walk straight to the house. First, he resolved
to stroll up another street for five minutes, then up
another street for five minutes more, and so on until
he had lost full half an hour, when he made a bold
plunge and found himself with a red face and a beating
heart in the smoky workshop.
" Joe Willet, or his ghost ? " said Varden, rising from
the desk at which he was busy with his books, and look-
ing at him under his spectacles. "Which is it? Joe
in the flesh, eh? That's hearty. And how are all the
Chigwell company, Joe?"
" Much as usual, sir — they and I agree as well as ever."
" Well, well! " said the locksmith. " We must be
patient, Joe, and bear with old folks' foibles. How's
the mare, Joe ? Does she do the four miles an hour
as easily as ever ? Ha, ha, ha ! Does she, Joe ? Eh !
— What have we there, Joe — a nosegay!"
BAKNABYKUDttE.
. " A very poor one, sir — I thought Miss Dolly" —
" No, no," said Gabriel, dropping his /oice, and shak-
mg his head, " not Dolly. Give 'em to her mother,
Joe. A great deal better give 'em to her mother
Would you mind giving 'em to Mrs. Varden, Joe ? *
" Oh no, sir," Joe replied, and endeavoring, but not
with the greatest possible success, to hide his disap-
pointment. " I shall be very glad, I'm sure."
" That's right," said the locksmith, patting him on the
back. "It don't matter who has 'em, Joe?"
• " Not a bit, sir." —> Dear heart, how the words stuck
in his throat! 1
" Come ill," said Gabriel. " I have just been called
to tea. She's in the parlor."
" She," thought Joe. " Which of 'em I wonder —
Mrs. or Miss ?" The locksmith settled the doubt as
neatly as if it had been expressed aloud, by leading
him to the door, and saying, " Martha, my dear, here's
young Mr. Willet."
Now, Mrs. Varden, regarding the Maypole as a sort
of human man-trap, or decoy for husbands ; viewing its
proprietor, and all who aided and abetted him, in the
light of so many poachers among Christian men; and
believing, moreover, that the publicans coupled with
sinners in Holy Writ were veritable licensed victual-
lets; was far from being favorably disposed towards
her visitor. Wherefore she was taken faint directly ;
and being duly presented with the crocuses and snow-
drops, divined on further consideration that they were
the occasion of the languor which had seized upon her
spirits. " I'm afraid' I couldn't bear the room another
minute," said the good lady, " if they remained here.
Would you excuse thy putting them out of window?"
160
BARNABY RUDGE.
Joe begged she wouldn't mention it on any account,
and smiled feebly as he saw them deposited on the sill
outside. If anybody could have known the pains he
had taken to make up that Jespised and misused bunch
of flowers!
" I feel it quite a relief to get rid of them, I as-
sure you," said Mrs. Yarden. " I'm better already."
And indeed she did appear to have plucked up her
spirits. 1
Joe expressed his gratitude to Providence for this
favorable dispensation, and tried to look as if he didn't
wonder where Dolly was.
" You're sad people at Chigwell, Mr. Joseph," said
Mrs. V.
" I hope not, ma'am," returned Joe.
" You're the cruellest and most inconsiderate people in
the world," said Mrs. Yarden, bridling. " I wonder old
Mr. Willet, having been a married man himself, doesn't
know better than to conduct himself as he does. His
doing it for profit is no excuse. I would rather pay
the money twenty times over, and have Varden come
home like a respectable and sober tradesman. If there
is one character," said Mrs. Varden with great empha-
sis, "that offends and disgusts me more than another,
it is a sot "
" Come, Martha, my dear," said the locksmith cheerily,
" let us have tea, and don't let us talk about sots. There
are none here, and Joe don't want to hear about them, I
dare say."
At this crisis, Miggs appeared with toast
" I dare say he does not," said Mrs. Varden ; " and I
dare say you do not, Varden. It's a very unpleasant
subject I have no doubt, though I won't say it's per-
BARNABY RUDGE.
161
sonal" — Miggs coughed — " whatever I may be forced
to think." Miggs sneezed expressively. " You never
will know, Yarden, and nobody at young Mr. Willet's
age — you'll excuse me, sir — can be expected to know,
what a woman suffers when she is waiting at home un-
der such circumstances. If you don't believe me, as I
know you don't, here's Miggs, who is only too often a
witness of it—ask her."
" Oh! she were very bad the other night, sir, indeed *
she were," said Miggs. "If you hadn't the sweetness
of an angel in you, mim, I don't think you could abear
it, I. raly don't." i
" Miggs," said Mrs. Varden, " you're profane."
" Begging your pardon, mim," returned Miggs, with
shrill rapidity, " such was not my intentions, and such
I hope is not my character, though I am but a ser-
vant."
" Answering me, Miggs, and providing yourself," re-
torted her mistress, looking round with dignity, " is one
and the same thing. How dare you speak of angels
in connection with your sinful fellow-beings — mere"
— said Mrs. Varden, glancing at herself in a neighbor-
ing mirror, and arranging the ribbon of her cap in a
more becoming fashion —" mere worms and grovellers
as we are !"
" I did not intend, mim, if you please, to give of-
fence," said Miggs, confident in the strength of her
compliment, and developing strongly in the throat as
usual, " and I did not expect it would be took as such.
I hope I know my own unworthiness, and that I hate
and despise myself and all my fellow-creatures as every
practical Christian should."
" You'll have the goodness, if you please," said Mrs.
vol. i 11
BARNABY RUDGE.
Varden loftily, f to step up-stairs and see if Dolly has
finished dressing, and to tell her that the chair that was
ordered for her will be here in a minute, and that if she
keeps it waiting, I shall send it away that instant. —
I'm sorry to see that you don't take your tea, Varden,
Uid that you don't take youre, Mr. Joseph; though of
) course it would be foolish of me to expect that anything
that can be had at home, and in the company of females,
•would please you." i • »
This pronoun was understood in the plural sense, and
included both gentlemen, upon both of whom it was
rather hard and undeserved, for Gabriel had applied
himself to the meal with a very promising appetite, un-
til it was spoilt by Mrs. Varden herself, and Joe had as
great a liking for the female society of the locksmith's
house —or for a part of it at all events— as man could
well entertain.
But he had no opportunity to say anything in his
own defence, for at that moment Dolly herself appeared,
and struck him quite dumb with her beauty. Never
had Dolly looked so handsome as she did then, in all
the glow and grace of youth, with all her charms in-
creased a hundred-fold by a most becoming dress, by
a thousand little coquettish ways which nobody could
assume with a better grace, and all the sparkling ex-
pectation of that accursed party. It is impossible to
tell how Joe hated that party wherever it was, and
all the other people who were going to it, whoever
they were. : '
And she hardly looked at him -— no, hardly looked
at him. And when the chair was seen through the
open door coming blundering into the workshop, she
actually clapped her hands and seemed glad to go. But
BARNABY BUDGE.
163
Joe gave her his arm — there was some comfort in that
— and handed her into it To see her seat herself in-
side, with her laughing eyes brighter than diamonds,
and her hand — surely she had the prettiest hand in
the world —■ on the ledge of the open window, and her
little finger provokingly and pertly tilted up, as if it
wondered why Joe didn't squeeze or kiss it 1 To think
how well one or two of the modest snowdrops would
have become that delicate bodice, and how they Were
lying neglected outside the parlor-window! To see
how Miggs looked on, with a face expressive of know-
ing how all this loveliness was got up, and of being in
the secret of every string and pin and hook-and-eye,
and of saying it a'n't half as real as you think, and I
could look quite as well myself if I took the pains!
To hear that provoking precious little scream when
the chair was hoisted on its poles, and to catch that
transient bat not-to-be-forgotten vision of the happy
face within-i—what torments and aggravations, and yet
what delights were these! The very chairmen seemed
favored rivals as they bore her down the street.
There never was such an alteration in a small room in
a small time as in that parlor when they went back to
finish tea. So dark, so deserted, so perfectly disen-
chanted. It seemed such sheer nonsense to be sitting
tamely there, when she was at a dance with more lovers
than man could calculate fluttering about her — with the
whole party doting on and adoring her, and wanting to
marry her. Miggs was hovering about too; and the
fact of her existence, the mere circumstance of her ever,
having been born, appeared, after Dolly, such an unac-
countable practical joke. It was impossible to talk. It
couldn't be done. He had nothing left for it but to stir
164
BARNABY RUDGE.
his tea round, and round, and round, and ruminate on all
the fascinations of the locksmith's lovely daughter.
Gabriel was dull too. It was a part of the certain un-
certainty of Mrs. Yarden's temper, that when they were
in this condition, she should be gay and sprightly.
" I need have a cheerful disposition, I am sure," said
the smiling housewife, " to preserve any spirits at all;
and how I do it I can scarcely tell."
" Ah, mim," sighed Miggs, " begging your pardon for
the interruption, there a'n't a many like you."
" Take away, Miggs," said Mrs. Varden, rising, " take
away, pray. I know I'm a restraint here, and as I wish
everybody to enjoy themselves as they best can, I feel I
had better go."
" No, no, Martha," cried the locksmith. " Stop here.
I'm sure we shall be very sorry to lose you, eh Joe!"
Joe started and said " Certainly."
" Thank you, Varden, my dear," returned his wife;
" but I know your wishes better. Tobacco and beer, or
spirits, have much greater attractions than any / can boast
of, and therefore I shall go and sit up-stairs and look out
of window, my love. Good-night, Mr. Joseph. I'm
very glad to have seen you, and only wish I could have
provided something more suitable to your taste. Re-
member me very kindly if you please to old Mr. Willet,
and tell him that whenever he comes here I have a crow
to pluck with him. Good-night! "
Having uttered these words with great sweetness of
manner the good lady dropped a courtesy remarkable for
its condescension, and serenely withdrew.
And it was for this Joe had looked forward to the
twenty-fifth of March for weeks and weeks, and had
gathered the flowers with so much care, and had cocked
BARNABY RUDGE.
165
his hat, and made himself so smart! This was the end
of all his bold determination, resolved upon for the hun-
dredth time, to speak out to Dolly and tell her how he
loved her ! To see her for a minute — for but a minute
— to find her going out to a party and glad to go ; to be
looked upon as a common pipe-smoker, beer-bibber,
spirit-guzzler, and tosspot! 1 He bade farewell to his
friend the locksmith, and hastened to take horse at the
Black Lion, thinking as he turned towards home, as
many another Joe has thought before and since, that
here was an end to all his hopes — that the thing was
impossible and never could be — that she didn't care for
him — that he was wretched for life — and that the only
congenial prospect left him, was to go for a soldier or a
sailor, and get some obliging enemy to knock his brains
out as soon as possible.
166
BARNABY BUDGE.
CHAPTER XIV.
Joe Willet rode leisurely along in his desponding
mood, picturing the locksmith's daughter going down
long country-dances, and poussetting dreadfully with bold
strangers — which was almost too much to bear — when
he heard the tramp of a horse's feet behind him, and
looking back, saw a well-mounted gentleman advancing
at a smart canter. As this rider passed, he checked his
steed, and called him of the Maypole by his name.
Joe set spurs to the gray mare, and was at his side
directly.
" I thought it was you, sir," he said, touching his hat.
" A fair evening, sir. Glad to see you out of doors
again."
The gentleman smiled and nodded. " What gay doings
have been going on to-day, Joe ? Is she as pretty as
ever? Nay, don't blush, man."
" If I colored at all, Mr. Edward," said Joe, " which I
didn't know I did, it was to think I should have been
such a fool as ever to have any hope of her. She's as
far out of my reach as — as Heaven is."
" Well, Joe, I hope that's not altogether beyond it,"
said Edward, good-humoredly. " Eh ? "
" Ah ! " sighed Joe. " It's all very fine talking, sir.
Proverbs are easily made in cold blood. But it can't be
helped. Are you bound for our house, sir ? "
BARNABY RUDGE.
167
" Yes. As I am not quite strong yet, I shall stay
there to-night, and ride home coolly in the morning."
" If you're in no particular hurry," said Joe, after a
short silence, " and will bear with the pace of this poor
jade, I shall be glad to ride on with you to the Warren,
sir, and hold your horse when you dismount. It'll save
you having to walk from the Maypole, there and back
again. I can spare the time well, sir, for I am too
soon." - s i i 1
" And so am I," returned Edward, " though I was
unconsciously riding fast just now, in compliment I sup-
pose to the pace of my thoughts, which were travelling
post. We will keep together, Joe, willingly, and be as
good company as may be. And cheer up, cheer up,
think of the locksmith's daughter with a stout heart, and
you shall win her-yet."
Joe shook his head; but there was something so
cheery in the buoyant hopeful manner of this speech,
that his spirits rose under its influence, and communi-
cated as it would seem some new impulse even to the
gray mare, who, breaking from her sober amble into a
gentle trot, emulated the pace of Edward Chester's horse,
and appeared to flatter herself that he was doing his
very best. ' ,
It was a fine dry night, and the light of a young moon,
which was then just rising, shed around that peace and
tranquillity which gives to evening time its most delicious
charm. The lengthened shadows of the trees, softened
as if reflected in still water, threw their carpet on the
path the travellers pursued, and the light wind stirred
yet more softly than before, as though it were soothing
Nature in her sleep. By little and little they ceased
talking, and rode on side by side in a pleasant silence.
168
BAKNABY RUDGE.
" The Maypole lights are brilliant to-night," said Ed-
ward, as they rode along the lane from which, while the
intervening trees were bare of leaves, that hostelry was
visible. , ; ,
" Brilliant indeed, sir," returned Joe, rising in his stir
rups to get a better view. " Lights in the large room
and a fire glimmering in the best bedchamber ? Why,
what company can this be for, I wonder!"
" Some benighted horseman wending towards London,
and deterred from going on to-night by the marvellous
tales of my friend the highwayman, I suppose," said
Edward. .
" He must be a horseman of good quality to have such
accommodations. Your bed too, sir ! " —
" No matter, Joe. Any other room will do for
me. But come— there's nine striking. We may push
on."
They cantered forward at as brisk a pace as Joe's
charger could attain, and presently stopped in the little
copse where he had left her in the morning. Edward
dismounted, gave bis bridle to his companion, and walked
with a light step towards the house.
A female servant was waiting at a side gate in the
garden-wall, and admitted him without delay. He hur-
ried along the terrace-walk, and darted up a flight of
broad steps leading into an old and gloomy hall, whose
walls were ornamented with rusty suits of armor, antlers,
weapons of the chase, and such-like garniture. Here he
paused, but not long; for as he looked round, as if ex-
pecting the attendant to have followed, and wondering
she had not done so, a lovely girl appeared, whose dark
hair next moment rested on his breast. Almost at the
same instant a heavy hand was laid upon her arm, Ed-
BARNABY RUDGE.
169
ward felt himself thrust away, and Mr. Haredale stood
between them.
He regarded the young man sternly without remov-
ing his hat; with one hand clasped his niece, and with
the other, in which he held his riding-whip, motioned
him towards the door. The young man diew himself
up, and returned his gaze.
"This is well done of you, sir, to corrupt my ser-
vants, and enter my house unbidden and in secret, like
a thief!" said Mr. Haredale. "Leave it, sir, and re-
turn no more."
" Miss Haredale's presence," returned the young man,
" and your relationship to her, give you a license which,
if you are a brave man, you will not abuse. You
have compelled me to this course, and the fault is
yours — not mine."
"It is neither generous, nor honorable, nor the act
of a true man, sir," retorted the other, "to tamper
with the affections of a weak, trusting girl, while you
shrink, in your unworthiness, from her guardian and
protector, and dare not meet the light of day. More
than this I will not say to you, save that I forbid you
this house, and require you to be gone."
" It is neither generous, nor honorable, nor the act
of a true man to play the spy," said Edward. " Your
words imply dishonor, and I reject them with the
scorn they merit."
" You will find," said Mr. Haredale, calmly, " your
trusty go-between in waiting at the gate by which you
entered. I have played no spy's part, sir. I chanced
to see you pass the gate, and followed. You might
have heard me knocking for admission, had you been
jess swift of foot, or lingered in the garden. Please
170
BARNABY RUDGE.
to withdraw. Your presence here is offensive to me
and distressful to my niece." As he said these words,
he passed his arm about the waist of the terrified and
weeping girl, and drew her closer to him ; and though
the habitual severity of his manner was scarcely changed,
there was yet apparent in the action an air of kind
ness and sympathy for her distress.
"Mr. Haredale," said Edward, "your arm encircles
her on whom I have set my every hope aud thought,
and to purchase one minute's happiness for whom I
would gladly lay down my life; this house is the cas-
ket that holds the precious jewel of my existence.
Your niece has plighted her faith to me, and I have
plighted mine to her. What have I done that you
should hold me in this light esteem, and give me these
discourteous words ? "
" You have done that, sir," answered Mr. Haredale,
" which must be undone. You have tied a lover's-
knot here which must be cut asunder. Take good
heed of what I say. Must. I cancel the bond be-
tween ye. I reject you, and all of your kith and kin
— all the false, hollow, heartless stock."
" High words, sir," said Edward, scornfully.
"Words of purpose and meaning, as you will find,"
replied the other. " Lay them to heart."
"Lay you then, these," said Edward. "Your cold
and sullen temper, which chills every breast about you,
which turns affection into fear, and changes duty into
dread, has forced us on this secret course, repugnant
to our nature and our wish, and far more foreign, sir,
to us than you. I am not a false, a hollow, or a
heartless man ; the character is yours, who poorly ven-
lure on these injurious terms, against the truth, and
BABNABY RUDGE.
171
under the shelter whereof I reminded you just now
You shall not cancel the bond between us. I will not
abandon this pursuit. I rely upon your niece's truth
and honor, and set your influence at nought. I leave
her with a confidence in her pure faith, which you
will never weaken, and with no concern but that I do
not leave her in some gentler care."
With that, he pressed her cold hand to bis bps, and
once more encountering and returning Mr. Haredale's
steady look, withdrew. I
A few words to Joe as he mounted his horse suffi-
ciently explained what had passed, and renewed all
that young gentleman's despondency with tenfold ag-
gravation. They rode back to the Maypole without
exchanging a syllable, and arrived at the door with
heavy hearts.
Old John, who had peeped from behind the red
curtain as they rode up shouting for Hugh, was out
directly, and said with great importance as he held
the young man's stirrup,—
" He's comfortable in bed — the best bed. A thor-
ough gentleman; the smilingest, affablest gentleman I
ever had to do with."
" Who, Willet ?" said Edward carelessly, as he dis-
mounted.
" Your worthy father, sir," replied John. " Your
honorable, venerable father."
" What does he mean ? " said Edward, looking with
a mixture of alarm and doubt at Joe.
" What do you mean ? * said Joe. " Don't you see
Mr. Edward doesn't understand, father ? "
"Why, didn't you know of it, sir?" said John,
opening his eyes wide. " How very singular! Bless
172
BABNABY BUDGE.
you, he's been here ever since noon to-day, and Mr.
Haredale has been having a long talk with him, and
hasn't been gone an hour."
" My father, Willet!"
"Yes, sir, he told me so—a handsome, slim, np-
right gentleman, in green-and-gold. In your old room
up yonder, sir. No doubt you can go in, sir," said
John, walking backwards into the road and looking up
at the window. " He hasn't put out his candles yet,
I see."
Edward glanced at the window also, and hastily
murmuring that he had changed his mind — forgotten
something — and must return to London, mounted his
horse again and rode away; leaving the Willets, father
and son, looking at each other in mute astonishment.
barnaby budge.
178
CHAPTER XV.
At noon next day, John Willefs guest sat lingering
over his breakfast in his own home, surrounded by a
variety of comforts, which left the Maypole's highest
flight and utmost stretch of accommodation at an in-
finite distance behind, and suggested comparisons very
much to the disadvantage and disfavor of that vener-
able tavern.
In the broad old-fashioned window-seat — as capa-
cious as many modern sofas, and cushioned to serve the
purpose of a luxurious settee — in the broad old-fash-
ioned window-seat of a roomy chamber, Mr. Chester
lounged, very much at his ease, over a well-furnished
breakfast-table. He had exchanged his riding-coat for
a handsome morning-gown, his boots for slippers i had
been at great pains to atone for the having been
obliged to make his toilet when he rose without the
aid of dressing-case tiring equipage; and, having
gradually forgotten through these means the discomforts
of an indifferent night and an early ride, was in a
state of perfect complacency, indolence, and satisfac
tion.
The situation in which he found himself, indeed, was
particularly favorable to the growth of these feelings ;
for, not to mention the lazy influence of a late and
lonely breakfast, with the additional sedative of a news-
paper, there was an air of repose about his place of
174
BARNABY RUDGE.
residence peculiar to itself, and which hangs about it,
even in these times, when it is more bustling and busy
than it was in days of yore.
There are, still, worse places than the Temple, on
a sultry day, for basking in the sun, or resting idly
in the shade. There- js yet «a drowsiness in its courts,
and a dreamy dulness in its trees and gardens; those
who pace its lanes and squares may yet hear the
echoes of their footsteps on the sounding stones, and
read upon its gates, in passing from the tumult of the
Strand or Fleet Street, " Who enters here leaves noise
behind." There is still the plash of falling water in
fair Fountain Court, and there are yet nooks and cor-
ners where dun-haunted students may look down from
their dusty garrets, on a vagrant ray of sunlight patch-
ing the shade of the tall houses, and seldom troubled
to reflect a passing stranger's form. There is yet, in
the Temple, something of a olerkly monkish atmos-
phere, which public offices of law have not disturbed,
and even legal firms have failed to scare away. Id
summer time, its pumps suggest to thirsty idlers, springs
cooler, and more sparkling, and deeper than other wells 5
and as they trace the spillings of full pitchers on the
heated ground, they snuff the f. esbness, and, sighing,
cast sad looks towards the Thames, and think of baths
and boats, and saunter on, despondent.
It was in a room in Paper Buildings — a row of
goodly tenements, shaded in front by ancient trees, and
looking, at the back, upon the Temple Gardens — that
this, our idler, lounged ; now taking up again the paper
he had laid down a hundred times; now trifling with the
fragments of his meal 5 now pulling forth his golden
toothpick, and glancing leisurely about the room, or out
BARNABY RCDGE.
175
at window into the trim garden walks, where a few early
loiterers were already pacing to and fro. Here a pair
of lovers met to quarrel and make up; there a dark-eyed
nursery-maid had better eyes for Templars than her
^ charge; on this hand an ancient spinster, with her lap-
dog in a string, regarded both enormities with scornful
sidelong looks; on that a weazen old gentleman, ogling
the nursery-maid, looked with like scorn upon the spin-
ster, and wondered she didn't know she was no longer
young. Apart from all these, on the river's margin two
or three eouple of business-talkers walked slowly up and
down in earnest conversation; and one young man sat
thoughtfully on a bench, alone.
"Ned is amazingly patient!?' said Mr. Chester, glanc-
ing at this last-named person as he set down his teacup
and plied the golden toothpick, "immensely patient!
He was sitting yonder when I began to dress, and has
scarcely changed his posture since. A most eccentric
dog!"
As he spoke, the figure rose, and came towards him
with a rapid pace.
" Really, as if he had heard me," said the father, re-
suming his newspaper with a yawn. " Dear Ned !
Presently the room-door opened, and the young man
entered ; to whom his father gently waved his hand and
smiled. i . . ■ •
" Are you at leisure for a little conversation, sir ?"
said Edward.
" Surely, Ned. I am always at leisure. You know
my constitution. — Have you breakfasted ? "
" Three hours ago." «
" What a very early dog !" cried his father, contem-
plating him from behind the toothpick, with a languid
smile.
176
BARNABY BUDGE.
"The truth is," said Edward, bringing a chair for-
ward, and seating himself near the table, " that I slept
but ill last night, and was glad to rise. The cause of
my uneasiness cannot but be known to you, sir; and it
is upon that, I wish to speak." i
" My dear boy," returned his father, " confide in me,
I beg. But you know my constitution — don't be prosy,
Ned."
" I will be plain, and brief," said Edward.
"Don't say you will, my good fellow," returned his
father, crossing his legs, " or you certainly will not You
are going to tell me "
" Plainly this, then," said the son, with an air of great
concern, " that I know where you were last night —
from being on the spot, indeed — and whom you saw,
and what your purpose was."
"You don't say so!" cried his father. "I am de-
lighted to hear it. It saves us the worry, and terrible
wear and tear of a long explanation, and is a great
relief for both. At the very house! Why didn't
you come up? I should have been charmed to see
you."
" I knew that what I had to say would be better said
after a night's reflection, when both of us were cool,"
returned the son.
"'Fore Gad, Ned," rejoined the father, "I was cool
enough last night. That detestable Maypole! By some
infernal contrivance of the builder, it holds the wind and
keeps it fresh. You remember the sharp east wind that
blew so hard five weeks ago ? I give you my honor it was
rampant in that old house last night, though out of doors
there was a dead calm. But you were saying "—<—
" I was about to say, Heaven knows how seriously
BAKNABY RUDGE.
177
and earnestly, that you have made me wretched, sir.
Will you hear me gravely for a moment ? "
" My dear Ned," said his father, " I will hear you
with the patience of an anchorite. Oblige me with the
milk." • ' a
" I saw Miss Haredale last night," Edward resumed,
when he had complied with this request; " her uncle, in
her presence, immediately after your interview, and, as
of course I know, in consequence of it, forbade me the
house, and, with circumstances of indignity which are of
your creation I am sure, commanded me to leave it on
the instant."
"For his manner of doing so, I give you my honor,
Ned, I am not accountable," said his father. " That you
must excuse. He is a mere boor, a log, a brute, with no
address in life. — Positively a fly in the jug. The first
I have seen this year."
Edward rose, and paced the room. His imperturbable
parent sipped his tea.
"Father," said the young man, stopping at length be-
fore him, " we must not trifle in this matter. We must
not deceive each other, or ourselves. Let me pursue the
manly open part, I wish to take, and do not repel me by
this unkind indifference."
" Whether I am indifferent or no," returned the other,
" I leave you, my dear boy, to judge. A ride of twenty-
five or thirty miles, through miry roads — a Maypole
linner — a tete-a-tete with Haredale, which, vanity
apart, was quite a Valentine and Orson business — a
Maypole bed — a Maypole landlord, and a Maypole ret-
'.nue of idiots and centaurs; — whether the voluntary
endurance of these things looks like indifference, dear
Ned, or like the excessive anxiety, and devotion, and all
VOL. i. 12
178
BARNABY RUDGE.
that sort of thing, of a parent, you shall determine for
yourself."
" I wish you to consider, sir," said Edward, " in what
a cruel situation I am placed. Loving Miss Haredale
as I do "
" My dear fellow," interrupted his father with a com-
passionate smile, "you do nothing of the kind. You
don't know anything about it. There's no such thing, I
assure you. Now, do take my word for it. You have
good sense, Ned, — great good sense. I wonder you
should be guilty of such amazing absurdities. You really
surprise me."
" I repeat," said his son firmly, " that I love her. You
have interposed to part us, and have, to the extent I
have just now told you of, succeeded. May I induee
you, sir, in time, to think more favorably of our attach-
ment, or is it your intention and your fixed design to
hold us asunder if you can?" »
" My dear Ned," returned his father, taking a pinch
of snuff and pushing his box towards him, " that it my
purpose most undoubtedly."
" The time that has elapsed," rejoined his son, " since
I began to know her worth, has flown in such a dream
that until now I have hardly once paused to reflect upon
my true position. What is it ? From my childhood I
have been accustomed to luxury and idleness, and have
been bred as though my fortune were large, and my e»
pectations almost without a limit. The idea of wealth
has been familiarized to me from my cradle. I have
been taught to look upon those means, by which men
raise themselves to riches and distinction, as being be-
yond my heeding, and beneath my care. I have been,
as the phrase is, liberally educated, and am fit for noth-
BARNABY RUDGE.
179
tag. I find myself at last wholly dependent upon you,
with no resource but in your favor. In this momentous
question of my life we do not, and it would seem, we
never can, agree. I have shrunk instinctively alike from
those to whom you have urged me to pay court, and
from the motives of interest and gain which have ren-
dered them in your eyes visible objects for my suit. If
there never has been thus much plain-speaking between
us before, sir, the fault has not been mine, indeed. If I
seem to speak too plainly now, it is, believe me father,
ta the hope that there may be a franker spirit, a worthier
reliance, and a kinder confidence between us ta time to
come." i
" My good fellow," said his smiling father, " you quite
affect me. Go on, my dear Edward, I beg. But re-
member your promise. There is great earnestness, vast
candor, a manifest sincerity in all you say, but I fear I
observe the faintest indications of a tendency to prose."
» "I am very sorry, sir."
" I am very sorry too, Ned, but you know that I can-
not fix my mind for any long period upon one subject.
If you'll come to the point at once, I'll imagine all that
ought to go before, and conclude it said. Oblige me
with the milk again. Listening invariably makes me
feverish." I
" What I would say then, tends to this," said Edward.
" I cannot bear this absolute dependence, sir, even upon
you. Time has been lost and opportunity thrown away,
but I am yet a young man, and may retrieve it. Will you
give me the means of devoting such abilities and energies
as I possess, to some worthy pursuit ? Will you let me
try to make for myself an honorable path in life ? For
any term you please to name — say for five years if you
180
BARNABY BUDGE.
will — I will pledge myself to move no further in the
matter of our difference without your full concurrence.
During that period, I will endeavor earnestly and pa-
tiently, if ever man did, to open some prospect for myself,
and free you from the burden you fear I should become
if I married one whose worth and beauty are her chief
endowments. Will you do this, sir ? At the expiration
of the term we agree upon, let us discuss this subject
again. Till then, unless it is revived by you, let it never
be renewed between us."
" My dear Ned," returned his father, laying down the
newspaper at which he had been glancing carelessly
and throwing himself back in the window-seat, "I be-
lieve you know how very much I dislike what are called
family affairs, which are only fit for plebeian Christ-
mas days, and have no manner of business with people
of our condition. But as you are proceeding upon a
mistake, Ned — altogether upon a mistake — I will con-
quer my repugnance to entering on such matters, and
give you a perfectly plain and candid answer, if you will
do me the favor to shut the door."
Edward having obeyed him, he took an elegant
little knife from his pocket, and paring his nails, con-
tinued : —
" You have to thank me, Ned, for being of good
family for your mother, charming person as she
was, and almost broken-hearted, and so forth, as she
left me, when she was prematurely compelled to be-
come immortal — had nothing to boast of in that re-
specL"
" Her father was at least an eminent lawyer, sir,"
said Edward.
" Quite right, Ned; perfectly so. He stood high at
BARNABY RUDGE.
181
the bar, had a great name and great wealth, but hav-
ing risen from nothing -r-1 have always closed my eyes
to the circumstance and steadily resisted its contempla-
tion, but I fear his father dealt in pork, and that "his
business did once involve cowheel and: sausages — he
wished to marry his daughter into a good family. He
had his heart's desire,: Ned. I was a younger son's
younger son, and I married her. We each had our
object, and gained it. She stepped at once into the
politest and best circles, and I stepped into a fortune
which I assure you was very necessary to my comfort —
quite indispensable. Now, my good fellow, that fortune
is among the things that have been. It is gone, Ned,
and has been gone — how old are you ? I always
forget." -j ■. - ■
" Seven-and-twenty, sir."
f Are you indeed ? " cried his father, raising his eye-
lids in a languishing surprise. " So much! Then I
should say, Ned, that as nearly as I remember, its skirts
vanished from human knowledge, about eighteen cm-
nineteen years ago. It was about that time when I
came to live in these chambers (once your grandfather's,
and bequeathed by that extremely respectable person to
me), and commenced to live upon an inconsiderable an-
nuity and my past reputation."
, i" You are jesting with me, sir," said Edward.
" Not in the slightest degree, I assure you," returned
his father with great composure. " These family topics
are so extremely dry, that I am sorry to say they don't
admit of any such relief. It is for that reason, and
because they have an appearance of business, that I
dislike them so very much. Well! You know the rest.
A. son, Ned, unless he is old enough to be a companion
182
BARNABY BUDGE.
— that is to say, unless he is some two or three and
twenty ■— is not the kind of thing to have about one.
He is a restraint upon his father, his father is a restraint
upOn him, and they make each other mutually uncom-
fortable. Therefore, until within the last four years or
so — I have a poor memory for dates, and if I mistake,
you will correct me in your own mind — you pursued
your studies at a distance, and picked up a great variety
of accomplishments. Occasionally we passed a week or
two together here, and disconcerted each other as only
such near relations can. At last you came home. I
candidly tell you, my dear boy, that if you had been
awkward and overgrown, I should have exported you to
some distant part of the world."
" I wish with all my soul you had, sir," said Ed-
ward.
" No, you don't, Ned," rejoined his father coolly;
f you are mistaken, I assure you. I found you a hand-
some, prepossessing, elegant fellow, and I threw you into
the society I can still command. Having done that, my
dear fellow, I consider that I have provided for you in
life, and rely on your doing something to provide for me
in return."
" I do not understand your meaning, sir."
" My meaning, Ned, is obvious — I observe another
fly in the cream-jug, but have the goodness not to take
it out as you did the first, for their walk when their legs
are milky, is extremely ungraceful and disagreeable
— my meaning is, that you must do as I did; that
you must marry well and make the most of your-
self."
" A mere fortune-hunter!" cried the eon, indig-
nantly.
BARNABY RUDGE.
188
" What in the devil's name, Ned, would you be!"
returned the father. " All men are fortune-hunters, are
they not? The law, the church, the court, the camp —
Bee how they are all crowded with fortune-hunters, jos-
tling each other in the pursuit. The Stock-exchange,
the pulpit, the counting-house,, the royal drawing-room,
the Senate,— what but fortune-hunters are they filled
with ? A fortune-hunter! ! Yes. You are one ; and you
would be nothing else, my dear Ned, if you were the
greatest courtier, lawyer, legislator, prelate, or mer-
chant, in existence. If you are squeamish and moral,
Ned, console yourself with the reflection that at the
worst your fortune-hunting can make but one person
miserable or unhappy. How many people do you sup-
pose these other kinds of huntsmen crush in following
their sport — hundreds at a step ? Or thousands ? "
The young man leant his head upon his hand, and
made no answer.
"I am quite charmed," said the father rising, and
walking slowly to and fro — stopping now and then to
glance at himself in a mirror, or survey a pieture
through his glass, with the air of a connoisseur, " that
we have had this conversation, Ned, unpromising as it
was. It establishes a confidence between us which is
quite delightful, and was certainly necessary, though
how you can ever have mistaken our position and de-
signs, I confess I cannot understand. I conceived, unti
I found your fancy for this girl, that all these points
were tacitly agreed upon between us."
" I know you were embarrassed, sir," returned the
son, raising his head for a moment, and then falling
into his former attitude, " but I had no idea we were
the beggared wretches you describe. How could I sup-
184
BARNABY RUDGE.
pose it, bred as I have been; witnessing the life you
have always led ; and the appearance you have always
made ? "
" My dear child," said the father — " for you really
talk so like a child that I must call you one — you
were bred upon a careful principle; the very manner
of your education, I assure you, maintained my credit
surprisingly. As to the life I lead, I must lead it, Ned
I must have these little refinements about me. I have
always been used to them, and I cannot exist without
them. They must surround me, you observe, and there-
fore they are here. With regard to our circumstances,
Ned, you may set your mind at rest upon that score.
They are desperate. Your own appearance is by no
means despicable, and our joint pocket-money alone
devours our income. That's the truth."
" Why have I never known this before ? Why have
you encouraged me, sir, to an expenditure and mode of
life to which we have no right or title ? "
" My good fellow," returned his father more compas-
sionately than ever, " if you made no appearance how
could you possibly succeed in the pursuit for which I
destined you ? As to our mode of life, every man has
a right to live in the best way he can; and to make
himself as comfortable as he can, or he is an unnatural
scoundrel. Our debts, I grant, are very great, and
therefore it the more behooves you, as a young man
of principle and honor, to pay them off as speedily as
possible."
" The villain's part," muttered Edward, " that I
have unconsciously played! I to win the heart of
Emma Haredale ! I would, for her sake, I had died
first!"
BARNAB* RUDGE.
185
" I am glad you see, Ned," returned his father, " how
perfectly self-evident it is, that nothing can be done in
that quarter. But apart from this, and the necessity
of your speedily bestowing yourself in another (as you
know you could to-morrow, if you chose), I wish you'd
look upon it pleasantly. In a religious point of view
alone, how could you ever think of uniting yourself to
a Catholic, unless she was amazingly rich ? You who
ought to be so very Protestant, coming of such a Prot-
estant family as you do. Let us be moral, Ned, or
we are nothing. Even if one could set that objection
aside, which is impossible, we come to another which is
quite conclusive. The very idea of marrying a girl
whose father was killed, like meat! Good God, Ned,
how disagreeable ! Consider the impossibility of hav-
ing any respect for your father-in-law under such
unpleasant circumstances — think of his having been
' viewed ' by jurors, and ' sat upon ' by coroners, and of
his very doubtful position in the family ever afterwards.
It seems to me such an indelicate sort of thing that I
really think the girl ought to have been put to death
by the state to prevent its happening. But I tease
you perhaps. You would rather be alone ? My dear
Ned, most willingly. God bless you. I shall be going
out presently, but we shall meet to-night, or if not to-
night, certainly to-morrow. Take care of yourself in the
mean time for both our sakes. You are a person of
great consequence to me, Ned — of vast consequenc
indeed. God bless you ! "
* With these words, the father, who had been arranging
his cravat in the glass, while he uttered them ill a dis-
connected careless manner, withdrew, humming a tune
as he went. The son, who had appeared so lost in
186
BARNABY RUDGE.
thought as not to hear ojr understand them, remained
quite still and silent. After the lapse of half an hour
or so, the elder Chester, gayly dressed, went out. The
younger still sat with his head resting on his hands,
in what appeared to be a kind of stupor.
BARNABY RUDGE.
187
CHAPTER XVI.
A series of pictures representing the streets of
London in the night, even at the comparatively recent
date of this tale, would present to the eye something
so very different in character from the reality which
is witnessed in these times, that it would be difficult
for the beholder to recognize his most familiar walks
in the altered aspect of little more than half a century
ago.
They were, one and all, from the broadest and best to
the narrowest and least frequented, very dark. The oil
and cotton lamps, though regularly trimmed twice or
thrice in the long winter nights, burnt feebly at the best;
and at a late hour, when they were unassisted by the
lamps and candles in the shops, cast but a narrow track
of doubtful light upon the footway, leaving the project-
ing doors and house-fronts in the deepest gloom. Many
of the courts and lanes were left in total darkness; those
of the meaner sort, where one glimmering light twinkled
for a score of houses, being favored in no slight degree.
Even in these places, the inhabitants had often good
reason for extinguishing their lamp as soon as it was
lighted; and the watch being utterly inefficient and
powerless to prevent them, they did so at their pleasure.
Thus, in the lightest thoroughfares, there was at every
turn some obscure and dangerous spot whither a thief
might fly for shelter, and few would care to follow ; and
188
BARNABT BUDGE.
the city being belted round by fields, green lanes, waste
grounds, and lonely roads, dividing it at that time from
the suburbs that have joined it since, escape, even where
the pursuit was hot, was rendered easy.
It is no wonder that with these favoring circumstances
in full and constant operation, street robberies, often ac-
companied by cruel wounds, and not unfrequently by
loss of life, should have been of nightly occurrence in
the very heart of London, or that quiet folks should
have had great dread of traversing its streets after
the shops were closed. It was not unusual for those
who weoded home alone at midnight, to keep the mid-
die of the road, the better to guard against surprise from
lurking footpads; few would venture to repair at a late
hour to Kentish Town or Hampstead, or even to Ken-
sington or Chelsea, unarmed and unattended; while he
who had been loudest and most valiant at the supper-
table or the tavern, and had but a mile or so to go, was
glad to fee a link-boy to escort him home.
There were many other characteristics — not quite so
disagreeable — about the thoroughfares of London then,
with which they had been long familiar. Some of the
shops, especially those to the eastward of Temple Bar,
still adhered to the old practice of hanging out a sign;
and the creaking and swinging of these boards in their
iron frames on windy nights, formed a strange and
mournful concert for the ears of those who lay awake
in bed or hurried through the streets. Long stands of
hackney-chairs and groups of chairmen, compared with
whom the coachmen of our day are gentle and polite,
obstructed the way and filled the air with clamor; night-
cellars, indicated by a little stream of iigiit crossing the
pavement, and stretching out half-way into the road, and
BARNABY RUDGE.
189
by the stifled roar of voices from below, yawned for the
reception and entertainment of the most abandoned of
both sexes; under every shed and bulk small groups
of link-boys gamed away the earnings of the day; or
one more weary than the rest, gave way to sleep, and
let the fragment of his torch fall hissing on the puddled
ground.
Then there was the watch with staff and lantern
crying the hour, and the kind of weather; and those
who woke up at his voice and turned them round in
bed, were glad to hear it rained, or snowed, or blew, or
froze, for very comfort's sake. The solitary passenger
was startled by the chairmen's cry of " By your leave
there ! " as two came trotting past him with their empty
vehicle — carried backwards to show its being disen-
gaged — and hurried to the nearest stand. Many a
private chair too, enclosing some fine lady, monstrously
hooped and furbelowed, and preceded by running-foot-
men bearing flambeaux — for which extinguishers are
yet suspended before the doors of a few houses of the
better sort — made the way gay and light as it danced
along, and darker and more dismal when it had passed.
It was not unusual for these running gentry, who car-
ried it with a very high hand, to quarrel in the servants'
hall while waiting for their masters and mistresses ; and,
falling to blows either there or in the street without, to
strew the place of skirmish with hair-powder, fragments
of bag-wigs, and scattered nosegays. Gaming, the vice
which ran so high among all classes (the fashion being >
of course set by the upper), was generally the cause of
these disputes ; for cards and dice were as openly used,
and worked as much mischief, and yielded as much ex-
citement below stairs, as above. While incidents like
190
BARNABY RUDGE.
these, arising out of drums and masquerades and parties
at quadrille, were passing at the west end of the town,
heavy stage-coaches and scarce heavier wagons were
lumbering slowly towards the city, the coachmen, guard,
and passengers armed to the teeth, and the coach — a
day or so, perhaps, behind its time, but that was nothing
— despoiled by highwaymen ; who made no scruple to
attack, alone and single-handed, a whole caravan of
goods and men, and sometimes shot a passenger or two,
and were sometimes shot themselves, just as the case
might be. On the morrow, rumors of this new act of
daring on the road yielded matter for a few hours' con-
versation through the town, and a Public Progress of
some fine gentleman (half drunk) to Tyburn, dressed
in the newest fashion and damning the ordinary with
unspeakable gallantry and grace, furnished to the pop-
ulace, at once a pleasant excitement and a wholesome
and profound example.
Among all the dangerous characters, who, in such a
state of society, prowled and skulked in the metropolis at
night, there was one man, from whom many as uncouth
and fierce as he, shrunk with an involuntary dread.
Who he was, or whence he came, was a question often
asked, but which none could answer. His name was
unknown, he had never been seen until within eight
days or thereabouts, and was equally a stranger to the
old ruffians, upon whose haunts he ventured fearlessly
as to the young. He could be no spy, for he never
removed his slouched hat to look about him, entered
into conversation with no man, heeded nothing that
» passed, listened to no discourse, regarded nobody that
came or went. But so surely as the dead of night set
in, so suiely this man was in the midst of the loose
BARNABY RUDGE.
191
concourse in the night-cellar where outcasts of eyery
grade resorted; and there he sat till morning.
He was not only a spectre at their licentious feasts;
a something in the midst of their revelry and riot that
chilled and haunted them ; but out of doors he was the
sime. Directly it was dark, he was abroad — never in
company with any one, but always alone ; never linger-
ing or loitering, but alw-uys walking swiftly ; and looking
(so they said who had seen him) over his shoulder from
time to time, and as he did so quickening his pace. In
the fields, the lanes, the roads, in all quarters of the
town — east, west, north, and south — that man was
seen gliding on, like a shadow. He was always hurry-
ing away. Those who encountered him, saw him steal
past, caught sight of the backward glance, and so lost
him in the darkness. . . , ! t r , '
This constant restlessness and flitting to and fro, gave
rise to strange stories. He was seen in such distant and
remote places, at times so nearly tallying with each other,
that some doubted whether there were not two of them,
or more — some, whether he had not unearthly means
of travelling from spot to spot. The footpad hiding in
a ditch had marked him passing like a ghost along its
brink; the vagrant had met him on the dark high-road ;
the beggar had seen him pause upon the bridge to look
down at the water, and then sweep on again ; they who
dealt in bodies with the surgeons could swear he slept
in church-yards, and that they had beheld him glide
away among the tombs, on their approach. And as
they told these stories to each other, one who had looked
about him would pull his neighbor by the sleeve, and
there he would be among them.
At last, one man — he was of those whose commerce
192 BARNABY RUDGE.
lay among the graves — resolved to question this strange
companion. Next night, when he had eat his poor meal
voraciously (he was accustomed to do that, they had ob-
served, as though he had no other in the day), this fellow
sat down at his elbow.
" A black night, master! "
" It is a black night."
" Blacker than last, though that was pitchy too. Didn't
I pass you near the turnpike in the Oxford-road ? "
" It's like you may. I don't know."
" Come, come, master," cried the fellow, urged on by
the looks of his comrades, and slapping him on the
shoulder; " be more companionable and communicative.
Be more the gentleman in this good company. There
are tales among us that you have sold yourself to the
devil, and I know not what."
" We all have, have we not?" returned the stranger,
looking up. " If we were fewer in number, perhaps he
would give better wages."
" It goes rather hard with you, indeed," said the fel-
low, as the stranger disclosed his haggard unwashed
face, and torn clothes. " What of that ? Be merry,
master. A stave of a roaring song now " —
" Sing you, if you desire to hear one," replied the
other, shaking him roughly off; " and don't touch me
if you're a prudent man ; I carry arms which go off
easily — they have done so, before now — and make it
dangerous for strangers who don't know the trick of
them, to lay hands upon me."
" Do you threaten ? " said the fellow.
" Yes," returned the other, rising and turning upon
him, and looking fiercely round as if in apprehension
of a general attack.
BARNABY BUDGE.
193
His voice, and look, and bearing — all expressive
of the wildest recklessness and desperation — daunted
while they repelled the by-standers. Although in a
very different sphere of action now, they were not
without much of the effect they had wrought at the
Maypole Inn.
u I am what you all are, and live as you all do," said
the man sternly, after a short silence. " I am in hiding
here like the rest, and if we were surprised, would per--
haps do my part with the best of ye. If it's my humor
to be left to myself, let me have it. Otherwise,"—and
here he swore a tremendous oath — "there'll be mischief
done in this place, though there are odds of a score
against me."
A low murmur, having its origin perhaps in a dread
of the man and the mystery that surrounded him, or
perhaps in a sincere opinion on the part of some of
those present, that it would be an inconvenient prece-
dent to meddle too curiously with a gentleman's pri-
vate affairs if he saw reason to conceal them, warned
the fellow who had occasioned this discussion that he
had best pursue it no further. After a short time the
strange man lay down upon a bench to sleep, and
when they thought of him again, they found that he
was gone.
Next night, as soon as it was dark, he was abroad
again and traversing the streets; he was before the
locksmith's house more than once, but the family were
out, and it was close shut. This night he crossed
London Bridge and passed into Soufhwark. As he
glided down a by-street, a woman with a little basket
on her arm, turned into it at the other end. Directly
he observed her, he sought the shelter of a« archway,,
voc. i. 13
194
BARNABY RUDGF..
0
and stood aside until she had passed. Then he emerged
eautiously from his hiding-place, and followed.
She went into several shops to purchase various
kinds of household necessaries, and round every place
at which she stopped he hovered like her evil spirit;
following her when she reappeared. It was nigh eleven
o'clock, and the passengers in the streets were thinning
fast, when she turned, doubtless to go home. The phan-
torn still followed her.
" She turned into the same by-street in which he had
seen her first, which, being free from shops, and narrow,
was extremely dark. She quickened her pace here, as
though distrustful of being stopped, and robbed of such
trifling property as she carried with her. He crept
along on the other side of the road. Had she been
gifted with the speed of wind, it seemed as if his ter-
rible shadow would have tracked her down.
At length the widow'—for she it was — reached her
own door, and, panting for breath, paused to take the
key from her basket. In a flush and glow, with the
haste she had made, and the pleasure of being safe at
home, she stooped to draw it out, when, raising her
head, she saw him standing silently beside her; the
apparition of a dream.
His hand was on her mouth, but that was needless,
for her tongue clove to its roof, and her power of
utterance was gone. " I have been looking for you
many nights. Is the house empty? Answer me. Is
any one inside ? "
She could only answer by a rattle in her throat
" Make me a sign."
She seemed to indicate that there was no one there.
He took the key, unlocked the door, carried her in,
and secured it carefully behind them.
BAKNABY BUDGE.
198
CHAPTER XVII.
It was a chilly night, and the fire in the widow's
parlor had burnt low. Her strange companion placed
her in a chair, and stooping down before the half-ex-
tinguished ashes, raked them together and fanned them
with his hat. From time to time he glanced at her
over his shoulder, as though to assure himself of her
remaining quiet and making no effort to depart; and
that done, busied himself about the fire again,
i.It was not without reason that he took these pains,
for his dress was dank and drenched with wet, his jaws
rattled with cold, and he shivered from head to foot.
It had rained hard during the previous night and for
some hours in the morning, but since noon it had been
fine. Wheresoever he had passed the hours of dark-
ness, his condition sufficiently betokened that many of
them had been spent beneath the open sky. Besmeared
with mire ; his saturated clothes clinging with a damp
embrace about his limbs; his beard unshaven, his face
unwashed, his meagre cheeks worn into deep hollows,
a more miserable wretch could hardly be, than this
man who now cowered down upon the widow's hearth,
and watched the struggling flame with bloodshot eyes.
She had covered her face with her hands, fearing, as
it seemed, to look towards him. So they remained for
some short time in silence. Glancing round again, he
asked at length : —
196
BARNABY RUDGE.
"Is this your house?"
" It is. Why, in the name of Heaven, do you darken
it?"
" Give me meat and drink," he answered sullenly,
"or I dare do more than that. The very marrow in
my bones is cold, with wet and hunger. I must have
warmth and food, and I will have them here."
"You were the robber on the Chigwell road."
" I was."
" And nearly a murderer then."
" The will was not wanting. There was one came
upon me and raised the hue-and-cry, that it would have
gone hard with, but for his nimbleness. I made a thrust
at him." ■ it
" You thrust your sword at him! " cried the widow,
looking upwards. " You hear this man! you hear and
saw!" , •, - i
He looked at her, as, with her head thrown back, and
her hands tight clinched together, she uttered these
words in an agony of appeal. Then, starting to his feet
as she had done, he advanced towards her.
. " Beware ! " she cried in a suppressed voice, whose
firmness stopped him midway. " Do not so much as
touch me with a finger, or you are lost; body and
soul, you are lost."
" Hear me," he replied, menacing her with his hand.
" I, that in the form of a man live the life of a hunted
beast! that in the body am a spirit, a ghost upon the
earth, a thing from which all creatures shrink, save those
curst beings of another world, who will not leave me; —
I am, in my desperation of this night, past all fear but
that of the hell in which I exist from day to day. Give
the alarm, cry out, refuse to sheltgr me. I will not hurt
BARNABY RUDGE
197
you. But I will not be taken alive; and so surely as
you threaten me above your breath, I fall a dead man on
this floor. The blood with which I sprinkle it, be on you
and yours, in the name of the Evil Spirit that tempts
men to their ruin ! "
As he spoke, he took a pistol from his breast, and
firmly clutched it in his hand.
" Remove this man from me, good Heaven !" cried
the widow. " In thy grace and mercy, give him one
minute's penitence, and strike him dead !"
" It has no such purpose," he said, confronting her.
" It is deaf. Give me to eat and drink, lest I do that,
it cannot help my doing, and will not do for you."
" Will you leave me, if I do thus much ? Will you
leave me and return no more ? "
" I will promise nothing," he rejoined, seating himself
at the table, " nothing but this — I will execute my
threat if you betray me."
She rose at length, and going to a closet or pantry in
the room, brought out some fragments of cold meat and
bread and put them on the table. He asked for brandy,
and for water. These she produced likewise ; and he
ate and drank with the voracity of a famished hound.
All the time he was so engaged, she kept at the utter-
most distance of the chamber, and sat there shuddering,
but with her face towards him. She never turned her
back upon him once; and although when she passed him
(as she was obliged to do in going to and from the cup-
beard) she gathered the skirts of her garment about her,
as if even its touching his by chance were horrible to
think of, still, in the midst of all this dread and terror,
he kept her face directed to his own, and watched bis
every movement.
198
BARNABY RUDGE.
His repast ended — if that can be called one, which
was a mere ravenous satisfying of the calls of hunger —
he moved his chair towards the fire again, and warming
himself before the blaze which had now sprung brightly
up, accosted her once more.
" I am an outcast, to whom a roof above his head is
often an uncommon luxury, and the food a beggar would
reject is delicate fare. You live here at your ease. Do
you live alone ? "
" I do not," she made answer with an effort.
" Who dwells here besides ? "
" One — it is no matter who. You had best begone,
or he may find you here. Why do you linger ? "
" For warmth," he replied, spreading out his hands
before the fire. " For warmth. You are rich, pei>
haps ? "
" Very," she said faintly. " Very rich. No doubt I
am very rich."
"At least you are not penniless. You have some
money. You were making purchases to-night."
" I have a little left. It is but a few shillings."
" Give me your purse. You had it in your hand at
the door. Give it to me."
She stepped to the table and laid it down. He
reached across, took it up, and told the contents into
his hand. As he was counting them, she listened for
a moment, and sprung towards him.
" Take what there is, take all, take more if more were
there, but go before it is too late. I have heard a way-
ward step without, I know full well. It will return
directly. Begone."
" What do you mean ? "
" Do not stop to ask. I will not answer. Much as I
BARNABY RUDGE.
199
dread to touch you, I would drag you to the door if I
possessed the strength, rather than you should lose an
instant. Miserable wretch ! fly from this place."
" If there are spies without, I am safer here," replied
the man, standing aghast. " I will remain here, and will
not fly till the danger is past." I
" It is too late!" cried the! widow, who had listened
for the step, and not to him. r Hark to that foot upon
the ground. Do you tremble to hear it! It is my son,
my idiot son ! "
As she said this wildly, there came a heavy knocking
at the door. He looked at her, and she at him.
" Let him come in," said the man, hoarsely. " I fear
him less than the dark, houseless night. He knocks
again. Let him come in ! "
" The dread of this hour," returned the widow, " has
been upon me all my life, and I will not. Evil will fall
upon him, if you stand eye to eye. My blighted boy!
Oh ! all good angels who know the truth — hear a poor
mother's prayer, and spare my boy from knowledge of
this man!"
"He rattles at the shutters!" cried the man. "He
calls you. That voice and cry! It was he who grappled
with me in the road. Was it he ? "
She had sunk upon her knees, and so knelt down,
moving her lips, but uttering no sound. As he gazed
upon her, uncertain what to do or where to turn, the
shutters flew open. He had barely time to catch a knife
from the table, sheathe it in the loose sleeve of his coat,
hide in the closet, and do all with the lightning's speed,
when Barnaby tapped at the bare glass, and raised the
gash exultingly.
" Why, who can keep out Grip and me!" he cried,
200
BARNABY budge.
thrusting in his head, and staring round the room. "Are
you there, mother? How long you keep us from the
fire and light."
She stammered some excuse and tendered him her
hand. But Barnaby sprung lightly in without assist-
ance, and putting his arms about her neck, kissed her a
hundred times.
"We have been afield, mother — leaping ditches,
scrambling through hedges, running down steep banks,
np and away, and hurrying on. The wind has been
blowing, and the rushes and young plants bowing and
bending to it, lest it should do them harm, the cowards
— and Grip — ha ha ha! — brave Grip, who cares for
nothing, and when the wind rolls him over in the dust,
turns manfully to bite it — Grip, bold Grip, has quar-
relied with every little bowing twig — thinking, he told
me, that it mocked him — and has worried it like a bull-
dog. Ha ha ha!" .
The raven, in his little basket at his master's back,
hearing this frequent mention of his naqh; in a tone of
exultation, expressed his sympathy by crowing like a
cock, and afterwards running over his various phrases
of speech with such rapidity, and/in so many varieties
of hoarseness, that they sounded like the murmurs of a
crowd of people.
" He takes such care of me besides !" said Barnaby.
Such care, mother! He watches all the time I sleep,
and when I shut my eyes and make-believe to slumber,
he practises new learning softly; but he keeps his eye
on me the while, and if he sees me laugh, though never
so little, stops directly. He won't surprise me till he's
perfect."
The raven crowed again in a rapturous manner which
BARNABY RUDGE.
201
plainly said, " Those are certainly some of my character-
istics, and I glory in them." In the mean time, Barnaby
closed the window and secured it, and coming to the
fire-place, prepared to sit down with his face to the
closet. But his mother prevented this, by hastily tak-
ing that side herself, and motioning him towards the
other. J
" How pale you are to-night!" said Barnaby, lean-
ing on his stick. "We have been cruel, Grip, and
made her anxious! "
Anxious in good truth, and sick at heart! The listener
held the door of his hiding-place open with his hand, and
closely watched her son. Grip — alive to everything his
master was unconscious of — had his head out of the
basket, and in return was watching him intently with his
glistening eye.
" He flaps his wings," said Barnaby, turning almost
quickly enough to catch the retreating form and closing
door, " as if there were strangers here ; but Grip is
wiser than to fancy that. Jump then!"
/ Accepting this invitation with a dignity peculiar to
himself, the bird hopped up on his master's shoulder,
from that to his extended hand, and so to the ground.
Barnaby unstrapping the basket and putting it down in
a corner with the lid open, Grip's first care was to shut
it down with all possible despatch, and then to stand
upon it. Believing, no doubt, that he had now rendered
it utterly impossible, and beyond the power of mortal
man, to shut him up in it any more, he drew a great
many corks in triumph, and uttered a corresponding
number of hurrahs.
" Mother!" said Barnaby, laying aside his hat and
stick, and returning to the chair from which he had
202
BAKNABY RUDGE.
risen, " I'll tell you where we have been to-day, and
what we have been doing, — shall I?"
She took his hand in hers, and holding it, nodded the
word she could not speak.
" You mustn't tell," said Barnaby, holding up his
finger, " for it's a secret, mind, and only known to me,
and Grip, and Hugh. We had the dog with us, but he's
not like Grip, clever as he is, and doesn't guess it yet,
I'll wager. — Why do you look behind me so ? "
"Did I?" she answered faintly. "I didn't know I
did. Come nearer me." \
" You are frightened !" said Barnaby, changing color.
" Mother — you don't see " —
" See what ? "
There's — there's none of this about, is there ? " he
answered in a whisper, drawing closer to her and clasp-
ing the mark upon his wrist. " I am afraid there is,
somewhere. You make my hair stand on end, and my
flesh creep. Why do you look like that ? Is it in the
room as I have seen it in my dreams, dashing the ceil-
ing and the walls with red ? Tell me. Is it ? "
He fell into a shivering fit as he put the question, and
shutting out the light with his hands, sat shaking in every
limb until it had passed away. After a time he raised
his head and looked about him.
" Is it gone ? "
" There has been nothing here," rejoined his mother,
soothing him. " Nothing indeed, dear Barnaby. Look!
You see there are but you and me."
He gazed at her vacantly, and, becoming reassured by
degrees, burst into a wild laugh.
" But let us see," he said, thoughtfully. " Were we
talking ? Was it you and me ? Where have we
been ? "
BAKNABY BUDGE.
203
"Nowhere but here."
" Ay, but Hugh, and I," said Barnaby,.— " That's it.
Maypole Hugh, and I, you know, and Grip — we have
been lying in the forest, and among the trees by the
road-side, with a dark-lantern after night came on, and
the dog in a noose ready to slip him when the man
came by." , s
" What man ? "
" The robber; him that the stars winked at. We
have waited for him after dark these many nights, and
we shall have him. I'd know him in a thousand.
Mother, see here ! This is the man. Look 1"
He twisted his handkerchief round his head, pulled
his hat upon his brow, wrapped his coat about him, and
stood up before her: so like the original he counter-
feited, that the dark figure peering out behind him might
have passed for his own shadow.
" Ha, ha, ha ! We shall have him," he cried, ridding
himself of the semblance as hastily as he had assumed it.
" You shall see him, mother, bound hand and foot, and
brought to London at a saddle-girth; and you shall hear
of him at Tyburn Tree if we have luck. So Hugh says.
You're pale again, and trembling. And why do you
look behind me so?"
" It is nothing," she answered. "I am not quite well.
Go you to bed, dear, and leave me here."
" To bed ! " he answered. " I don't like bed. I like
to lie before the fire, watching the prospects in the burn-
ing coals — the rivers, hills, and dells, in the deep, red
sunset, and the wild faces. I am hungry too, and Grip
aas eaten nothing since broad noon. Let us to supper.
Grip 1 To supper, lad 1
The raven flapped his wings, and, croaking his satis-
204
BARNABY RUDGE.
faction, hopped to the feet of his master, and there held
his bill open, ready for snapping up such lumps of meat
as he should throw him. Of these he received about a
6core in rapid succession, without the smallest discom-
posure.
" That's all," said Barnaby.
" More!" cried Grip. " More !"
But it appearing for a certainty that no more was to
be had, he retreated with his store; and disgorging the
morsels one by one from his pouch, hid them in various
corners — taking particular care, however, to avoid the
closet, as being doubtful of the hidden man's propensities
and power of resisting temptation. When he bad con-
eluded these arrangements, he took a turn or two across
the room with an elaborate assumption of having nothing
on his mind (but with one eye hard upon his treasure all
the time), and then, and not till then, began to drag it
out, piece by piece, and eat it with the utmost relish.
Barnaby, for his part, having pressed his mother to
eat, in vain, made a hearty supper too. Once, during
the progress of his meal, he wanted more bread from the
closet and rose to get it. She hurriedly interposed to
prevent him, and summoning her utmost fortitude, passed
into the recess, and brought it out herself.
" Mother," said Barnaby, looking at her steadfastly as
she sat down beside him, after doing so ; "is to-day my
birthday ? "
" To-day !" she answered. " Don't you recollect it
was but a week or so ago, and that summer, autumn,
and winter have to pass before it comes again ? "
" I remember that it has been so till now," said Bar-
naby. " But I think to-day must be my birthday too,
for all that"
BARNABY RUDGE.
205
She asked him why ? " I'll tell you why," he said.
" I have always seen you — I didn't let you know it,
but I have — on the evening of that day grow very sad.
I have seen you cry when Grip and I were most glad;
and look frightened with no reason ; and I have touched
your hand, and felt that it was cold — as it is now.
Once, mother (on a birthday that was, also) Grip and I
thought of this after we went up-stairs to bed, and when
it was midnight, striking one o'clock, we came down to
your door to see if you were well. You were on your
knees. I forget what it was you said. Grip, what was
it we heard her say that night ? "
" I'm a devil!" rejoined the raven promptly.
" No, no," said Barnaby. " But you said something
in a prayer; and when you rose and walked about, you
looked (as you have done ever since, mother, towards
night on my birthday) just as you do now. I have
found that out, you see, though I am silly. So I say
you're wrong; and this must be my birthday — my
birthday, Grip!"
The bird received this information with a crow of such
duration, as a cock, gifted with intelligence beyond all
others of his kind, might usher in the longest day with.
Then, as if he had well considered the sentiment, and
regarded it as apposite to birthdays, he cried, "Never
say die!" a great many times, and flapped his wings for
emphasis.
The widow tried to make light of Barnaby's remark
and endeavored to divert his attention to some new sub-
ject; too easy a task at all times, as she knew. His
supper done, Barnaby, regardless of her entreaties,
stretched himself on the mat before the fire; Grip
perched upon his leg, and divided his time between
206
BARNABY RUDGE.
dozing in the grateful warmth, and endeavoring (as it
presently appeared) to recall a new accomplishment he
had been studying all day.
A long and profound silence ensued, broken only by
some change of position On the part of Barnaby, whose
eyes were still wide open and intently fixed upon the
fire ; or by an effort of recollection on the part of Grip,
who would cry in a low voice from time to time, " Polly
put the ket— " and there stop short, forgetting the re-
mainder, and go off in a doze again.
After a long interval, Barnaby's breathing grew more
deep and regular, and his eyes were closed. But even
then the unquiet spirit of the raven interposed. " Polly
put the ket—" cried Grip, and his master was broad
awake again.
At length Barnaby slept soundly; and the bird with
his bill sunk upon his breast, his breast itself puffed out
into a comfortable alderman-like form, and his bright eye
growing smaller and smaller, really seemed to be sub-
siding into a state of repose. Now and then he muttered
in a sepulchral voice, " Polly put the ket— " but very
drowsily, and more like a drunken man than a reflecting
raven.
The widow, scarcely venturing to breathe, rose from
her seat. The man glided from the closet, and extin-
guished the candle.
" —tie on," cried Grip, suddenly struck with an idea
and very much excited. " —tie on. Hurrah ! Polly
put the ket-tle on, we'll all have tea; Polly put the ket-
tie on, we'll all have tea. Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! I'm
a devil, I'm a devil, I'm a ket-tle on, Keep up your spirits,
Never say die, Bow wow wow, I'm a devil, I'm a ket-tle,
fma — Polly put the ket-tle on, we'll all have tea."
BAENABY RUDGE.
207
They stood rooted to the ground, as though it had
been a voice from the grave.
But even this failed to awaken the sleeper. He turned
over towards the fire, his arm fell to the ground, and his
head drooped heavily upon it. The widow and her un-
welcome visitor gazed at him and at each other for a
moment, and then she motioned him towards the door.
"Stay," he whispered. " You teach your son well.1'
" I have taught him nothing that you heard to-night.
Depart instantly, or I will rouse him."
" You are free to do so. Shall I rouse him ? "
"You dare not do that."
" I dare do anything, I have told you. He knows
me well, it seems. At least I will know him."
" Would you kill him in his sleep ?" cried the
widow, throwing herself between them.
"Woman," he returned between his teeth, as he
motioned her aside, *" I would see him nearer, and I
will. If you want one of us to kill the other, wake
him."
With that he advanced, and bending down over the
prostrate form, softly turned back the head and looked
into the face. The light of the fire was upon it, and
its every lineament was revealed distinctly. He con-
templated it for a brief space, and hastily uprose.
" Observe," he whispered in the widow's ear: " In
him, of whose existence I was ignorant until to-night,
I have you in my power. Be careful how you use
me. Be careful how you use me. I am destitute and
starving, and a wanderer upon the earth. I may take
a sure and slow revenge."
" There is some dreadful meaning in your words.
I do not fathom it."
208
BARNABY BUDGE.
" There is a meaning in them, and I see you fathom
it to its very depth. You have anticipated it for years;
you have told me as much. I leave you to digest it.
Do not forget my warning."
He pointed, as he left her, to the slumbering form,
and stealthily withdrawing, made his way into the
street She fell on her knees beside the sleeper, and
remained like one stricken into stone, until the tears
which fear had frozen so long, came tenderly to her
relief.
" Oh Thou," she cried, " who hast taught me such
deep love for this one remnant of the promise of a
happy life, out of whose affliction, even, perhaps the
comfort springs that he is ever a relying, loving child
to me — never growing old or cold at heart, but need-
ing my care and duty in his manly strength as in his
cradle-time — help him, in his darkened walk through
this sad world, or he is doomed, and my poor heart
is broken!"
BARNABY RUDGE.
209
CHAPTER XYIII.
Gliding along the silent streets, and holding his
course where they were darkest and most gloomy, the
man who had left the widow's house crossed London
Bridge, and arriving in the City, plunged into the
back ways, lanes, and courts, between Cornhill and
Smithfield; with no more fixedness of purpose than to
lose himself among their windings, and baffle pursuit,
if any one were dogging his steps.
It was the dead time of the night, and all was quiet.
Now and then a drowsy watchman's footsteps sounded
on the pavement, or the lamplighter on his rounds
went flashing past, leaving behind a little track of
smoke mingled with glowing morsels of his hot red
link. He hid himself even from these partakers of
his lonely walk, and, shrinking in some arch or door-
way while they passed, issued forth again when they
were gone and so pursued his solitary way.
To be shelterless and alone in the open country,
hearing the wind moan and watching for day through
the whole long weary night; to listen to the falling
rain, and crouch for warmth beneath the lee of some
old barn or rick, or in the hollow of a tree; are dis-
mal things — but not so dismal as the wandering up
and down where shelter is, and beds and sleepers are
by thousands; a houseless rejected creature. To pace
the echoing stones from hour to hour, counting the
VOL. i. 14
210
BARNABY RUDGE.
dull chimes of the clocks; to watch the lights twink-
ling in chamber-windows, to think what happy forget-
fulness each house shuts in; that here are children
coiled together in their beds, here youth, here age,
here poverty, here wealth, all equal in their sleep, and
all at rest; to have nothing in common with the slum-
bering world around, not even sleep, Heaven's gift to
all its creatures, and be akin to nothing but despair;
to feel, by the wretched contrast with everything on
every hand, more utterly alone and cast away than in
a trackless desert; this is a kind of suffering, on which
the rivers of great cities close full many a time, and
which the solitude in crowds alone awakens.
The miserable man paced up and down the streets
— so long, so wearisome, so like each other — and
often cast a wistful look towards the east, hoping to
see the first faint streaks of day. But obdurate night
had yet possession of the sky, and his disturbed and
restless walk found no relief.
One house in a back street was bright with the
cheerful glare of lights; there was the sound of music
in it too, and the tread of dancers, and there were
cheerful voices, and many a burst of laughter. To
this place — to be near something that was awake and
glad — he returned again and again ; and more than
one of those who left it when the merriment was at
its height, felt it a check upon their mirthful mood to
see him flitting to and fro like an uneasy ghost At
last the guests departed, one and all; and then the
house was close shut up, and became as dull and silent
as the rest
His wanderings brought him at one time to the city
jail. Instead of hastening from it as a place of ill
BAKNABY RUDGE.
211
omen, and one he had cause to shun, he sat down on
some steps hard by, and resting his chin upon his hand,
gazed upon its rough and frowning walls as though
even they became a refuge in his jaded eyes. He
paced it round and round, came back to the same spot,
and sat down again. He did this often, and once,
with a hasty movement, crossed to where some men
were watching in the prison lodge, and had his foot
upon the steps as though determined to accost them.
But looking round, he saw that the day began to
break, and failing in his purpose, turned and fled.
He was soon in the quarter he had lately traversed,
and pacing to and fro again as he had done before.
He was passing down a mean street, when from an
alley close at hand some shouts of revelry arose, and
there came straggling forth a dozen madcaps, whoop-
ing and calling to each other, who, parting noisily,
took different ways and dispersed in smaller groups.
Hoping that some low place of entertainment which
would afford him a safe refuge might be near at hand,
he turned into this court when they were all gone,
and looked about for a half-opened door, or lighted
window, or other indication of the place whence they
had come. It was so profoundly dark, however, and
so ill-favored, that he concluded they had but turned
up there, missing their way, and were pouring out
again when he observed them. With this impression,
and finding there was no outlet but that by which he
had entered, he was about to turn, when from a grat-
ing near his feet a sudden stream of light appeared,
and the sound of talking came. He retreated into a
doorway to see who these talkers were, and to listen
to them.
212
BARNABY RUDGE.
The light came to the level of the pavement as he
did this, and a man ascended bearing in his hand a
torch. This figure unlocked and held open the grat-
ing as for the passage of another, who presently ap-
peared, in the form of a young man of small stature
and uncommon self-importance, dressed in an obsolete
and very gaudy fashion.
" Good-night, noble captain," said he with the torch.
" Farewell, commander. Good luck, illustrious gen-
eral!"
In return to these compliments the other bade him
hold his tongue, and keep his noise to himself; and
laid upon him many similar injunctions, with great
fluency of speech and sternness of manner.
" Commend me, captain, to the stricken Miggs," re-
turned the torch-bearer in a lower voice. " My cap-
tain flies at higher game than Miggses. Ha, ha, ha!
My captain is an eagle, both as respects his eye and
soaring wings. My captain breaketh hearts as other
bachelors break eggs at breakfast."
" What a fool you are, Stagg!" said Mr. Tappertit,
stepping on the pavement of the court, and brushing
from his legs the dust he had contracted in his pas-
sage upward.
" His precious limbs!" cried Stagg, clasping one of
his ankles. " Shall a Miggs aspire to these propor-
tions! No, no, my captain. We will inveigle ladies
fair, and wed them in our secret cavern. We will
unite ourselves with blooming beauties, captain."
" I'll tell you what, my buck," said Mr. Tappertit,
releasing his leg; " I'll trouble you not to take liber-
ties, and not to broach certain questions unless certain
questions are broached to you. Speak when you're
BARNA.BY RUDGE.
213
epoke to on particular subjects, and not otherways
Hold the torch up till I've got to the end of the
court, and then kennel yourself, do you hear ?"
"I hear you, noble captain."
" Obey then," said Mr. Tappertit haughtily. " Gen-
tlemen, lead on!" With which word of command
(addressed to an imaginary staff or retinue) he folded
his arms, and walked with surpassing dignity down
the court.
His obsequious follower stood holding the torch above
his head, and then the observer saw for the first time,
from his place of concealment, that he was blind. Some
involuntary motion on his part caught the quick ear of
the blind man, before he was conscious of having moved
an inch towards him, for he turned suddenly and cried,
" Who's there ? "
" A man," said the other, advancing. " A friend!"
" A stranger!" rejoined the blind man. " Strangers
are not my friends. What do you do there ? "
" I saw your company come out, and waited here till
they were gone. I want a lodging."
" A lodging at this time 1'' returned Stagg, pointing
towards the dawn as though he saw it. " Do you know
the day is breaking?"
" I know it," rejoined the other, " to my cost.
I have been traversing this iron-hearted town all
night." •'
" You had better traverse it again," said the blind man,
preparing to descend, " till you find some lodgings suit-
able to your taste. I don't let any."
" Stay!" cried the other, holding him by the arm.
" I'll beat this light about that hangdog face of yours
(for hangdog it is, if it answers to your voice), and rouse
214
BARNABY BUDGE.
the neighborhood besides, if you detain me," said the
blind man. " Let me go. Do you hear ? "
" Do you hear!" returned the other, chinking a few
shillings together, and hurriedly pressing them into his
hand. " I beg nothing of you. I will pay for the shel-
ter you give me. Death ! Is it much to ask of such as
you ! I have come from the country, and desire to rest
where there are none to question me. I am faint, ex-
hausted, worn out, almost dead. Let me lie down, like a
dog, before your fire. I ask no more than that. If you
would be rid of me, I will depart to-morrow."
" If a gentleman has been unfortunate on the road,"
muttered Stagg, yielding to the other, who, pressing on
him, had already gained a footing on the steps — " and
can pay for his accommodation " —
" I will pay you with all I have. I am just now past
the want of food, God knows, and wish but to purchase
shelter. What companion have you below ? "
" None."
" Then fasten your grate there and show me the way.
Quick!"
The blind man complied after a moment's hesitation,
and they descended together. The dialogue had passed
as hurriedly as the words could be spoken, and they
stood in his wretched room before he had had time
to recover from his first surprise.
" May I see where that door leads to, and what is be-
yond?" said the man, glancing keenly round. " You
will not mind that?"
" I will show you myself. Follow me, or go before.
Take your choice."
He bade him lead the way, and, by the light of the
♦orch which his conductor held up for the purpose, in*
BAKNABY KUDGE.
215
spected all three cellars narrowly. Assured that the
blind man had spoken truth, and that he lived there
alone, the visitor returned with him to the first, in which
a fire was burning, and flung himself with a deep groan
upon the ground before it.
His host pursued his usual occupation without seeming
to heed him any further. But directly he fell asleep —
and he noted his falling into a slumber, as readily as the
keenest-sighted man could have done — he knelt down
beside him, and passed his hand lightly but carefully
over his face and person.
His sleep was checkered with starts and moans, and
sometimes with a muttered word or two. His hands
were clinched, his brow bent, and his mouth firmly set.
All this, the blind man accurately marked; and as if his
curiosity were strongly awakened, and he had already
some inkling of his mystery, he sat watching him, if the
expression may be used, and listening, until it was broad
day.
216
BARNABY BUDGE.
CHAPTER XIX.
Dolly Varden's pretty little head was yet be-
wildered by various recollections of the party, and her
bright eyes were yet dazzled by a crowd of images,
dancing before them like motes in the sunbeams, among
which the effigy of one partner in particular did es-
pecially figure, the same being a young coachmaker (a
master in his own right) who had given her to under-
stand, when he handed her into the chair at parting, that
it was his fixed resolve to neglect his business from that
time, and die slowly for the love of her — Dolly's head,
and eyes, and thoughts, and seven senses, were all in a
state of flutter and confusion for which the party was ac-
countable, although it was now three days old, when, as
she was sitting listlessly at breakfast, reading all manner
of fortunes (that is to say, of married and flourishing
fortunes) in the grounds of her teacup, a step was heard
in the workshop, and Mr. Edward Chester was descried
through the glass door, standing among the rusty locks
and keys, like love among the roses — for which apt
comparison the historian may by no means take any
credit to himself, the same being the invention, in a
sentimental mood, of the chaste and modest Miggs, who,
beholding him from the doorsteps she was then clean-
ing, did, in her maiden meditation, give utterance to the
simile.
The locksmith, who happened at the moment to have
BARNABY BUDGE.
217
liis eyes thrown upward and his head backward, in an in.
tense communing with Toby, did not see his visitor, until
Mrs. Varden, more watchful than the rest, had desired
Sim Tappertit to open the glass door and give him ad-
mission — from which untoward circumstance the good
lady argued (for she could deduce a precious moral from
the most trifling event) that to take a draught of small
ale in the morning was to observe a pernicious, itre-
ligious, and Pagan custom, the relish whereof should be
left to swine, and Satan, or at least to Popish persons,
and should be shunned by the righteous as 'a work of
sin and evil. She would no doubt have pursued her ad-
monition much further, and would have founded on it a
long list of precious precepts of inestimable value, but
that the young gentleman standing by in a somewhat un-
comfortable and discomfited manner while she read her
spouse this lecture, occasioned her to bring it to a pre-
mature conclusion., < ^ '
" I'm sure you'll excuse me, sir," said Mrs. Varden,
rising and courtesying. "Varden is so very thought-
less, and needs so much reminding — Sim, bring a chair
here." . f | <. •' t « 1 H
Mr. Tappertit obeyed, with a flourish implying that he
did so, under protest.
" And you can go, Sim," said the locksmith.
Mr. tappertit obeyed again, still under protest; and
betaking himself to the workshop, began seriously to
fear that he might find it necessary to poison his mas
ter, before his time was out.
In the mean time, Edward returned suitable replies to
Mrs. Varden's courtesies, and that lady brightened up
very much ; so that when he accepted a dish of tea
from the fair bands of Dolly, she was perfectly agree
able.
218
BARNABY RUDGE.
" I am sure if there's anything we can do, — Varden,
or I, or Dolly either, — to serve you, sir, at any time,
you have only to say it, and it shall be done," said
Mrs. V.
" I am much obliged to you, I am sure," returned Ed-
ward. " You encourage me to say that I have come
here now, to beg your good offices."
Mrs. Varden was delighted beyond measure.
" It occurred to me that probably your fair daughter
might be going to the Warren, either to-day or to-mor-
row," said Edward, glancing at Dolly ; " and if so, and
you will allow her to take charge of this letter, Ma'am,
you will oblige me more than I can tell you. The truth
is, that while I am very anxious it should reach its desti-
nation, I have particular reasons for not trusting it to
any other conveyance; so that without your help, I am
wholly at a loss." "
" She was not going that way, sir, either to-day, or to-
morrow, nor indeed all next week," the lady graciously
rejoined, " but we shall be very glad to put ourselves out
of the way on your account, and if you wish it, you may
depend upon its going to-day. You might suppose," said
Mrs. Varden, frowning at her husband, " from Varden's
sitting there so glum and silent, that he objected to this
arrangement; but you must not mind that, sir, if you
please. It's his way at home. Out of doors, he^can be
cheerful and talkative enough." -
Now, the fact was, that the unfortunate locksmith,
blessing his stars to find his helpmate in such good
humor, had been sitting with a beaming face, hearing
this discourse with a joy past all expression. Where
fore this sudden attack quite took him by surprise.
u My dear Martha " — he said.
BARNABY BUDGE.
219
" Oh yes, I dare say," interrupted Mrs. Varden, with
a smile of mingled scorn and pleasantry. " Very dear
We all know that."
" No, but my good soul," said Gabriel, " you are quite
mistaken. You are indeed. I was delighted to find
you so kind and ready. I waited, my dear, anxiously, I
assure you, to hear what you would say."
"You waited anxiously," repeated Mrs. V. "Yes!
Thank you, Varden. You waited, as you always do,
that I might bear the blame, if any came of it. But! I
am used to it," said the lady with a kind of solemn
titter, " and that's my comfort!"
" I give you my word, Martha" — said Gabriel.
; Let me give you my word, my dear," interposed his
wife with a Christian smile, "that such discussions as
these between married people, are much better left alone.
Therefore, if you please Varden, well drop the SUb-
ject. I have no wish to pursue it. I could. I might
say a great "deal. But I would rather hot. Pray don't
Say any more." ' 1 ' 4
"'*1' don't want to say any more," rejoined the goaded
locksmith. '
" Well then, don't," said Mrs. Varden. ''
* Nor did I begin it, Martha," added the locksmith,
good-humoredly, " I must' say that." '
* "You did not begin it, Varden ! "exclaimed his wife,
opening her eyes very wide and looking round upon the
company, as though she would say, You hear this man
"You did not begin it, Varden ! But you shall not say
I was out of temper. No, you did not begin it, oh dear
no, not you, my dear!"
" Well, well," said the locksmith. " That's settled then."
" Oh yes," rejoined his wife, " quite. If you like to
220 BARNABY RUDGE.
say Dolly began it, my dear, I shall not contradict you.
I know my duty. I need know it, I am sure. I am
often obliged to bear it in mind, when my inclination
perhaps would be for the moment to forget it. Thank
you, Yarden." And so, with a mighty show of humility
and forgiveness, she folded her hands, and looked round
again, with a smile which plainly said, " If you desire to
see the first and foremost among female martyrs, here
she is, on view ! "
This little incident, illustrative though it was of Mrs.
Varden's extraordinary sweetness and amiability, had so
strong a tendency to check the conversation and to dis-
concert all parties but that excellent lady, that only a
few monosyllables were uttered until Edward withdrew;
which he presently did, thanking the lady of the house a
great many times for her condescension, and whispering
in Dolly's ear that he would call on the morrow, in case
there should happen to be an answer to the note —
which, indeed, she knew without his telling, as Barnaby
and his friend Grip had dropped in on the previous
night to prepare her for the visit which was then ter-
minating.
Gabriel, who had attended Edward to the door, came
back with his hands in his pockets; and, after fidget-
ing about the room in a very uneasy manner, and cast-
ing a great many sidelong looks at Mrs. Varden (who
with the calmest countenance in the world was five
fathoms deep in the Protestant Manual), inquired of
Dolly how she meant to go. Dolly supposed by the
stage-coach, and looked at her lady mother, who find-
ing herself silently appealed to, dived down at least an-
other fathom into the Manual, and became unconscious
of all earthly things.
BARNABY RUDGE.
221
" Martlia " — said the locksmith.
"I hear you, Varden," said his wife, without rising to
the surface.
" I am sorry, my dear, you have such an objection
to the Maypole and old John, for otherways as it's a
very fine morning, and Saturday's not a busy day with
us, we might have all three gone to Chigwell in the
chaise, and had quite a happy day of it."
Mrs. Varden immediately closed the Manual, and
bursting into tears, requested to be led up-stairs.
" What is the matter now, Martha ?" inquired the
locksmith.
To which Martha rejoined, " Oh ! don't speak to me,"
and protested in agony that if anybody had told her so,
she wouldn't have believed it.
" But, Martha," said Gabriel, putting himself in the
way as she was moving off with the aid of Dolly's shoul-
der, "wouldn't have believed what? Tell me what's
wrong now. Do tell me. Upon my soul I don't know.
Do you know, child ? Damme !" cried the locksmith,
plucking at his wig in a kind of frenzy, " nobody does
know, I verily believe, but Miggs !"
" Miggs," said Mrs. Varden faintly, and with symp-
toms of approaching incoherence, " is attached to me,
and that is sufficient to draw down hatred upon her in
this house. She is a comfort to me whatever she may
be to others."
" She's no comfort to me," cried Gabriel, made bold
by despair. " She's the misery of my life. She's all
the plagues of Egypt in one."
" She's considered so, I have no doubt," said Mrs.
Varden. " I was prepared for that ; it's natural; it's
of a piece with the rest. When you taunt me as you
222
BARNABY RUDOE.
do to my face, how can I wonder that you taunt hei
behind her back !" And here the incoherence coming
on very strong, Mrs. Varden wept, and laughed, and
sobbed, and shivered, and hiccoughed, and choked; and
said she knew it was very foolish, but she couldn't help
it; and that when she was dead and gone, perhaps they
would be sorry for it — which really under the circum-
stances did not appear quite so probable as she seemed
to think — with a great deal more to the same effect.
In a word, she passed with great decency through all
the ceremonies incidental to such occasions; and being
supported up-stairs, was deposited in a highly spasmodic
state on her own bed, where Miss Miggs shortly after-
wards flung herself upon the body.
The philosophy of all this was, that Mrs. Varden
wanted to go to Chigwell; that she did not want to
make any concession or explanation; that she would
only go on being implored and entreated so to do; and
that she would accept no other terms. Accordingly,
after a vast amount of moaning and crying up-stairs,
and much damping of foreheads, and vinegaring of
temples, and hartshorning of noses, and so forth; and
after most pathetic adjurations from Miggs, assisted by
warm brandy-and-water not over-weak, and divers other
cordials, also of a stimulating quality, administered at
first in teaspoonfuls and afterwards in increasing doses,
snd of which Miss Miggs herself partook as a preven-
tive measure (for fainting is infectious) ; after all these
remedies, and many more too numerous to mention, but
not to take, had been applied; and many verbal con-
solations, moral, religious, and miscellaneous, had been
superadded thereto; the locksmith humbled himself, and
the end was gained.
BARNABY RUDGE.
223
" If it's only for the sake of peace and quietness,
father," said Dolly, urging him to go up-stairs.
" Oh, Doll, Doll," said her good-natured father. " If
you ever have a husband of your own" —
Dolly glanced at the glass.
" Well, when you have," said the locksmith, " never
faint, my darling. More domestic unhappiness has come
of easy fainting, Doll, than from all the greater passions
put together. Remember that, my dear, if you would
be really happy, which you never can be, if your hus-
band isn't. And a word in your ear, my precious. Never
have a* Miggs about you !"
With this advice he kissed his blooming daughter on
the cheek, and slowly repaired to Mrs. Varden's room ;
where that lady, lying all pale and languid on her
couch, was refreshing herself with a sight of her last
new bonnet which Miggs, as a means of calming her
scattered spirits, displayed to the best advantage at her
bedside.
" Here's master, mini," said Miggs. " Oh, what a
happiness it- is when man and wife come round again!
Oh gracious, to think that him and her should ever
have a word together! " In the energy of these sen-
timents, which were uttered as an apostrophe to the
Heavens in general, Miss Miggs perched the bonnet
on the top of her own head, and folding her hands,
turned on her tears.
" I can't help it," cried Miggs. " I couldn't, if I was
to be drownded in 'em. She has such a forgiving spirit!
She'll forget all that has passed, and go along with you,
sir — Oh, if it was to the world's end, she'd go along
with you."
Mrs. Varden with a faint smile gently reproved her
224
BARNABY RUDGK.
attendant for this enthusiasm, and reminded her at the
same time that she was far too unwell to venture out
that day.
" Oh no, you're not, mim, indeed you're not," said
Miggs; " I repeal to master ; master knows you're not,
mim. The hair, and motion of the shay, will do you
good, mim, and you must not give way, you must not
raly. She must keep up mustn't she, sir, for all our
sakes ? J was a-telling her that, just now. She must
remember us, even if she forgets herself. Master will
persuade you, mim, I'm sure. There's Miss Dolly's a-
going you know, and master, and you, and all so happy
and so comfortable. Oh !" cried Miggs, turning on the
tears again, previous to quitting the room in great
emotion, " I never see such a blessed one as she is for
the forgiveness of her spirit, I never, never, never
did. Nor more did master neither; no, nor no one —
never!"
For five minutes or thereabouts, Mrs. Varden re-
mained mildly opposed to all her husband's prayers
that she would oblige him by taking a day's pleasure,
but relenting at length, she suffered herself to be per-
suaded, and granting liirn her free forgiveness (the
merit whereof, she meekly said, rested with the Man-
ual and not with her), desired that Miggs might come
and help her dress. The handmaid attended promptly,
and it is but justice to their joint exertions to record
that, when the good lady came down-stairs in course
of time, completely decked out for the journey, she
really looked as if nothing had happened, and appeared
in the very best health imaginable.
As to Dolly, there she was again, the very pink
and pattern of good looks, in a smart little cherry-
BARNABY RUDGE.
225
colored mantle, with a hood of the same drawn over
ner head, and upon the top of that hood, a little straw
hat trimmed with cherry-colored ribbons, and worn the
merest trifle on one side—just enough in short to
make it the wickedest and most provoking head-dress
that ever malicious milliner devised. And not to speak
of the manner in which these cherry-colored decora-
tions brightened her eyes, or vied with her lips, or
shed a new bloom on her face, she wore such a cruel
little muff, and such a heartrending pair of shoes, and
was so surrounded and hemmed in, as it were, by
aggravations of all kinds, that when Mr. Tappertit,
holding the i horse's head, saw her come out of the
house alone, such impulses- came over him to decoy
her into the chaise and drive off like mad, that he
would unquestionably have done it, but for certain
uneasy doubts besetting him as to the shortest way to
Gretna Green; whether it was up the street or down,
or up the right-hand turning or the left; and whether,
supposing all the turnpikes to be carried by storm, the
blacksmith in the end would marry them on credit;
which by reason of his clerical office appeared, even
to his excited imagination, so unlikely, that he hesi-
tated. And while he stood hesitating, and looking
post-chaises-and-six at Dolly, out came his master and
his mistress, and the constant Miggs, and the oppor-
tunity was gone forever. For now the chaise creaked
upon its springs, and Mrs. Varden was inside; and
now it creaked again, and more than ever, and the
locksmith was inside; and now it bounded once, as if
its heart beat lightly, and BhUy was inside ; and now
it was gone and its place was empty, and he and that
dreary Miggs were standing iq the street together.
VOL. I. 15
226
BARNABY RUDGE.
The hearty locksmith was in as good a humor as
if nothing had occurred for the last twelve months to
put him out of his way, Dolly was all smiles and
graces, and Mrs. Varden was agreeable beyond all
precedent. As they jogged through the streets talking
of this thing and of that, who should be descried upon
the pavement but that very coach-maker, looking so
genteel that nobody would have believed he had ever
had anything to do with a coach but riding in it, and
bowing like any nobleman. To be sure Dolly was
confused when she bowed again, and to be sure the
cherry-colored ribbons trembled a little when she met
his mournful eye, which seemed to say, " I have kept
my word, I have begun, the business is going to the
devil, and you're the cause of it." There he stood,
rooted to the ground: as Dolly said like a statue; and
as Mrs. Varden said, like a pump; till they turned
the corner: and when her father thought it was like
his impudence, and her mother wondered what he
meant by it, Dolly blushed again till her very hood
was pale.
But on they went, not the less merrily for this, an/
there was the locksmith in the incautious fulness of hit
heart " pulling-up " at all manner of places, and evin-
cing a most intimate acquaintance with all the taverns
on the road, and all the landlords and all the landla-
dies, with whom, indeed, the little horse was on equally
friendly terms, for he kept on stopping of his own
accord. Never were people so glad to see other peo-
pie as these landlords and landladies were to behold
Mr. Varden and Mrs. Varden and Miss Varden; and
wouldn't they get out, said one; and they really must
walk up-stairs, said another; and she would take it ill
BAKNABY RUDGE.
227
and be quite certain they were proud if they wouldn't
have a little taste of something, said a third ; and so
on, that it really was quite a Progress rather than a
ride, and one continued scene of hospitality from be-
ginning to end. It was pleasant enough to be held in
such esteem, not to mention the refreshments; so Mrs.
Varden said nothing at the time, and was all affability
and delight — but such a body of evidence as she col-
lected against the unfortunate locksmith that day, to
be used thereafter as occasion might require, never
was got together for matrimonial purposes.
In course of time — and in course of a pretty long
time too, for these agreeable interruptions delayed them
not a little, — they arrived upon the skirts of the
Forest, and riding pleasantly on among the trees, came
at last to the Maypole, where the locksmith's cheerful
"Yoho!" speedily brought to the porch old John, and
after him young Joe, both of whom were so transfixed
at sight of the ladies, that for a moment they were
perfectly unable to give them any welcome, and could
do nothing but stare.
It was only for a moment, however, that Joe forgot
himself, for speedily reviving he thrust his drowsy
father aside — to Mr. Willet's mighty and inexpressi-
ble indignation — and darting out, stood ready to help
them to alight. It was necessary for Dolly to get out
first. Joe had her in his arms ; —- yes, though for a
space of time no longer than you could count one in,
Joe had her in his arms. Here was a glimpse of
happiness!
It would be difficult to describe what a fiat and
commonplace affair the helping Mrs. Varden out after-
wards was, but Joe did it, and did it too with the
228
BARNABY RUDGE.
best grace in the world. Then old John, who, enter-
taining a dull and foggy sort of idea that Mrs. Varden
wasn't fond of him, had been in some donbt whether
she might not have come for purposes of assault and
battery, took courage, hoped she was well, and offered
to eonduCt her into the house. This tender being
amicably received, they marched in together; Joe and
Dolly followed, arm in arm, (happiness again!) and
Varden brought up the rear.
Old John would have it that they must sit in the
bar, and nobody objecting, into the bar they went.
All bars are snug places, but the Maypole's was the
very snuggest, cosiest, and completest bar, that ever
the wit of man devised. Such amazing bottles in old
oaken pigeon-holes; such gleaming tankards dangling
from pegs at about the same inclination as thirsty men
would hold them to their lips; such sturdy little Dutch
kegs ranged in rows on shelves; so many lemons
hanging in separate nets, and forming the fragrant
grove already mentioned in this chronicle, suggestive,
with goodly loaves of snowy sugar stowed away hai-d
by, of punch, idealized beyond all mortal knowledge;
such closets, such presses, such drawers full of pipes,
such places for putting things away in hollow window-
seats, all crammed to the throat with eatables, drinka-
bles, or savory condiments; lastly, and to crown all;
as typical of the immense resources of the establish-
ment, and its defiances to all visitors to cut and come
again, such a stupendous cheese 1 >
It is a poor heart that never rejoices — it must
have been the poorest, weakest, and most watery heart
that ever beat, which would not have warmed towards
the Maypole bar. Mrs. Varden's did directly. She
BARUABY RUDGE.
229
could no more have reproached John Willet among
those household gods, the kegs and bottles, lemons,
pipes, and cheese, than she could have -stabbed him
with his own bright carving-knife. The order for
dinner too — it might have soothed a savage. " A
it of fish," said John to the cook, "and some lamb-
chops (breaded, with plenty of ketchup), and a good
salad, and a roasi spring chicken, with a dish of sau-
sages and mashed potatoes, or something of that sorb"
Something of that sort! The resources of these inns!
To talk carelessly about dishes, which in themselves
were a first-rate holiday kind of dinner, suitable to
one's wedding-day, as something of that sort: mean-
ing, if you can't get a spring chicken, any other trifle
in the way of poultry will do — such as a peacock,
perhaps! The kitchen too, with its great broad cav-
ernous chimney; the kitchen, where nothing in the
way of cookery seemed impossible; where you could
believe in anything to eat, they chose to tell you of.
Mrs. Yarden returned from the contemplation of these
wonders to the bar again, with a head quite dizzy
and bewildered. Her house-keeping capacity was not
large enough to comprehend them. She was obliged
to go to sleep. Waking was pain in the midst of
such immensity.
Dolly in the mean while, whose gay heart and head
ran upon other matters, passed out at the garden-
door, and glancing back now and then (but of course
not wondering whether Joe saw her), tripped away
oy a path across the fields with which she was well
acquainted, to discharge her mission at the Warren ;
*nd this deponent hath been informed and verily be-
230 BARNABY RUBGE.
lieves, that you might have seen many less pleasant
objects than the cherry-colored mantle and ribbons as
they went fluttering along the green meadows in the
bright light of the day, like giddy things as they
were.
<
BARNABY BUDGE.
231
CHAPTER XX.
The proud consciousness of her trust, and the great
importance she derived from it, might have advertised it
to all the house if she had had to run the gauntlet of its
inhabitants; but as Dolly had played in every dull room
and passage many and many a time, when a child, and
had ever since been the humble friend of Miss Haredale,
whose foster-sister she was, she was as free of the build-
ing as the young lady herself. So, using no greater pre-
caution than holding her breath and walking on tiptoe as
she passed the library door, she went straight to Emma's
room as a privileged visitor.
It was the liveliest room in the building. The cham-
ber was sombre like the rest for the matter of that, but
the presence of youth and beauty would make a prison
cheerful (saving alas! that confinement withers them),
and lend some charms of their own to the gloomiest
scene. Birds, flowers, books, drawing, music, and a hun-
dred such graceful tokens of feminine loves and cares,
filled it with more of life and human sympathy than the
whole house besides seemed made to hold. There was
heart in the room; and who that has a heart, ever fails
to recognize the silent presence of another !
Dolly had one undoubtedly, and it was not a tough
one either, though there was a little mist of coquettish
ness about it, such as sometimes surrounds that sun of
life in its morning, and slightly dims its lustre. Thus,
232
BARNABY RUDUK
when Emma rose to greet her, and kissing her affection-
sitely on the cheek, told her, in her quiet way, that she
had been very unhappy, the tears stood in Dolly's eyes,
and she felt more sorry than she could tell; but next
moment she happened to raise them to the glass, and
really there was something there so exceedingly agree
able, that as she sighed, she smiled, and felt surprisingly
consoled. i • i . - . i • 1
" I have heard about it, Miss," said Dolly,' " and it's
very sad indeed, but when things are at the worst they
are sure to mend."
"But are you sure they are at the worst?" asked
Emma with a smile.
" Why, I don't see how they can very well be more
unpromising than they are j I really don't," said Dolly.
"And I bring something to begin with."
" Not from Edward ? "
Dolly nodded and smiled, and feeling in her pockets
(there were pockets in those days) with an affectation of
not being able to find what she wanted, which greatly
enhanced her importance, at length produced the letter.
As Emma hastily broke the seal and became absorbed in
its contents, Dolly's eyes, by one of those strange acci-
dents for which there is no accounting, wandered to the
glass again. She could not help wondering whether the
coach-maker suffered very much, and quite pitied the
poor man. '
It was a long letter — a very long letter, written close
on all four sides of the sheet of paper, and crossed after-
wards ; but it was not a consolatory letter, for as Emma
read it she stopped from time to time to put her handker-
chief to her eyes. To be sure Dolly marvelled greatly
to see her in so much distress, for to her thinking a love-
BAKNABY BUDGE.
233
affair ought to be one of the best jokes, and the slyest,
merriest kind of thing in life. But she set it down in
her own mind that all this came from Miss Haredale's
being so constant, and that if she would only take on with
some other young gentleman —just in the most innocent
way possible, to keep her first lover up to the mark —
she would find herself inexpressibly comforted.
"I am sure that's what I should do if it was me,"
thought Dolly. " To make one's sweethearts miserable
is well enough and quite right, but to be made miserable
one's self is a little too much ! "
However it wouldn't do to say so, and therefore she
sat looking on in silence. She needed a pretty consider-
able stretch of patience, for when the long letter had
been read once all through it was read again, and when
it had been read twice all through it was read again.
During this tedious process, Dolly beguiled the time in
the most improving manner that occurred to her, by
curling her hair on her fingers, with ithe aid of the
looking-glass before mentioned, and giving it some kill-
iag twists.
Everything has an end. Even young ladies in love
eannot read their letters forever. In course of time the
packet was folded up, and it only remained to write the
answer. g
But as this promised to be a work of time likewise,
Emma said she would put it off until after dinner, and
that Dolly must dine with her. As Dolly had made up
her mind to do so beforehand, she required very little
pressing; and when they had settled this point, they
went to walk in the garden. . 1.
They strolled up and down the terrace walks, talking
incessantly—at least, Dolly never left off once—and
234
BARNABY RCDGE.
making that quarter of the sad and mournful house quite
gay. Not that they talked loudly or laughed much, but
they were both so very handsome, and it was such a
breezy day, and their light dresses and dark curls ap-
peared so free and joyous in their abandonment, and
Emma was so fair, and Dolly so rosy, and Emma so
delicately shaped, and Dolly so plump, and — in short,
there are no flowers for any garden like such flowers,
let horticulturists say what they may, and both house
and garden seemed to know it, and to brighten up
sensibly.
After this, came the dinner and the letter-writing, and
some more talking, in the course of which Miss Haredale
took occasion to charge upon Dolly certain flirtish and
inconstant propensities, which accusations Dolly seemed
to think very complimentary indeed, and to be mightily
amused with. Finding her quite incorrigible in this
respect, Emma suffered her to depart; but not before
she had confided to her that important and never-suffi-
ciently-to-be-taken-care-of answer, and endowed her more-
over with a pretty little bracelet as a keepsake. Having
clasped it on her arm, and again advised her half in jest
and half in earnest to amend her roguish ways, for she
knew she was fond of Joe at heart (which Dolly stoutly
denied, with a great many haughty protestations that she
hoped she could do better than that indeed 1 and so
forth), she bade her farewell; and after calling her back
to give her more supplementary messages for Edward,
than anybody with tenfold the gravity of Dolly Varden
could be reasonably expected to remember, at length
dismissed her.
Dolly bade her good-by, and tripping lightly iowh the
tairs arrived at the dreaded library door, and was about
BARNABY RUDGE.
235
to pass it again on tiptoe, when it opened, and behold!
there stood Mr. Haredale. Now, Dolly bad from her
childhood associated with this gentleman the idea of
something grim and ghostly, and being at the moment
conscience-stricken besides, the sight of him threw her
into such a flurry that she could neither acknowledge
his presence nor run away, so she gave a great start,
and then with downcast eyes stood still and trembled.
" Come here, girl," said Mr. Haredale, taking her by
the hand. " I want to speak to you." , •
" If you please, sir, I'm in a hurry," faltered Dolly,
" and —r and you have frightened me by coming so sud-
denly upon me, sir, — I would rather go, sir, if you'll
be so good as to let me."
" Immediately," said Mr. Haredale, who had by this
time led her into the room and closed the door. " You
shall go directly. You have just left Emma ? "
"Yes, sir, just this minute. — Father's waiting for
me, sir, if you'll please to have the goodness "
" I know. I know," said Mr. Haredale. " Answer
me a question. What did you bring here to-day?"
" Bring here, sir ? " faltered Dolly.
"You will tell me the truth, I am sure. Yes."
Dolly hesitated for a little while, and somewhat em-
boldened by his manner, said at last, f Well then, sir.
It was a letter." > ■ , * \ ■
" From Mr. Edward Chester, of course. And you
are the bearer of the answer?" t
Dolly hesitated again, and not being able to decide
upon any other course of action, burst into tears.
" You alarm yourself without cause," said Mr. Hare-
dale. " Why are you so foolish ? Surely you can an-
swer me. You know that I have but to put the question
236
BARNABY RUDGE.
to Emma and learn the truth directly. Have you the
answer with you ? "
Dolly had what is popularly called a spirit of her
own, and being now fairly at bay, made the best of
it. '
' " Yes, sir," she rejoined, trembling and frightened as
she was. "Yes, sir, I have. You may kill me if you
please, sir, but I won't give it up. I'm very sorry,—
but I won't. There, sir."
" I commend your firmness and your plain-speaking,"
said Mr. Haredale. " Rest assured that I have as little
desire to take your letter as your life. You are a very
discreet messenger and a good girl."
Not feeling quite certain, as she afterwards said,
whether he might not becoming over her " with these
compliments, Dolly kept as far from him as she could,
cried again, and resolved to defend her pocket (for the
letter was there) to the last extremity. «
"I have some design," said Mr. Haredale after a
short silenee, during which a smile, as be regarded her,
had struggled through the gloom and melancholy that
was natural to his face, " of providing a companion for
my niece; for her life is a very lonely one. Would you
like the office ? You are the oldest friend she has, and
the best entitled to it." 1
" I don't know, sir," answered Dolly, not sure but he
was bantering her; " I can't say. I don't know what
they might wish at home. I couldn't give an opinion,
Bir." *■ I
" If your friends had no objection, would you have
any ? " said Mr. Haredale. *' Come. There's a plain
question; and easy to answer." t
" None at all that I know of, sir," replied Dolly. " I
BARNABY BUDGE.
237
should be very glad to be near Miss Emma of course,
and always am."
" That's well," said Mr. Haredale. " That is all I had
to say. You are anxious to go. Don't let me detain
you."
Dolly didn't let him, nor did she wait for hiin to try
for the words had no sooner passed his lips than she
was out of the room, out of the house, and in the fields
again.
The first thing to be done of course, when she came
to herself, and considered what a flurry she had been
in, was to cry afresh; and the next thing, when she
reflected how well she had got over it, was to laugh
heartily. The tears once banished gave place to the
smiles, and at last Dolly laughed so much that she was
fain to lean against a tree, and give vent to her exulta-
tion. When she could laugh no longer and was quite
tired, she put her head-dress to rights, dried her eyes,
looked hack very merrily and triumphantly at the War-
ren chimneys, which were just visible, and resumed her
walk.
The twilight had come on, and it was quickly growing
dusk, but the path was so familiar to her from frequent
traversing that she hardly thought of this, and certainly
felt no uneasiness at being alone. Moreover, there was
the bracelet to admire; and when she had given it a
good rub, and held it out at arm's length, it sparkled and
glittered so beautifully on her wrist, that to look at it
in every point of view and with every possible turn of
the arm, was quite an absorbing business. There was
the letter too, and it looked so mysterious and knowing,
when she took it out of her pocket, and it held, as she
knew, so much inside, that to turn it over and over, and
238
BARNABT BUDGE.
think about it, and wonder how it begun, and how it
ended, and what it said all through, was another matter
of constant occupation. Between the bracelet and the
letter, there was quite enough to do without thinking of
anything else ; and admiring each by turns, Dolly went
on gayly.
As she passed through a wicket gate to where the
path was narrow, and lay between two hedges garnished
here and there with trees, she heard a rustling close at
hand, which brought her to a sudden stop. She listened.
All was very quiet, and she went on again — not abso
lutely frightened, but a little quicker than before perhaps,
and possibly not quite so much at her ease, for a check
of that kind is startling. ' '
She had no sooner moved on again, than she was
conscious of the same sound, which was like that of a
person tramping stealthily among bushes and brush-
wood. Looking towards the spot whence it appeared
to come, she almost fancied she could make out a
crouching figure. She slopped again. All was quiet
as before. On she went once more — decidedly faster
now — and tried to sing softly to herself. It must be
the wind. 1 ' 1
But how came the wind to blow only when she walked,
and cease when she stood still ? She stopped invol-
untarily as she made the reflection, and the rustling
noise stopped likewise. She was really frightened now,
and was yet hesitating what to do, when the bushes
crackled and snapped, and a man came plunging through
them, close before her.
barnaby rudge.
239
CHAPTER XXL
It was for the moment an inexpressible relief to
Dolly, to recognize in the person who forced himself
into the path so abruptly, and now stood directly in
her way, Hugh of the Maypole, whose name she ut-
tered ip a tone of delighted surprise that came from
her heart.
" Was it you ?" she said, " how glad I am to see
you 1 and hQw could you terrify me so!"
In answer to which, he said nothing at all, but stood
quite still, looking at her.
" Did you come to meet me?" asked Dolly.
Hugh nodded, and muttered something to the effect
that he had been waiting for her, and had expected
her sooner. . '
"I thought it likely they would send," said Dolly,
greatly reassured by this.
l" Nobody sent me," was his sullen answer. " I came
of my own accord."
The rough bearing of this fellow, and his wild, un-
couth appearance, had often filled the girl with a vague
lpprehension even when other people were by, and had
occasioned her to shrink from him involuntarily. The
having him for an unbidden companion in so solitary
a place, with the darkness fast gathering about them,
renewed and even increased the alarm she had felt at
first.
240
BABNABY KUDGE.
If his manner had been merely dogged and passively
fierce, as usual, she would have had no greater dislike
to his company than she always felt — perhaps, indeed,
would have been rather glad to have had him at hand.
But there was something of coarse bold admiration in
his look, which terrified her tery much. She glanced
timidly towards him, uncertain whether to go forward
or retreat, and he stood gazing at her like a handsome
satyr; and so they remained for some short time with-
out stirring or breaking silence. At length Dolly took
courage, shot past him, and hurried on.
"Why do you spend so much breath in avoiding me?"
said Hugh, accommodating his pace to hers, and keeping
close at her side.
" I wish to get back as quickly as I can, and you walk
too near me," answered Dolly.
" Too near!" said Hugh, stooping over her so that
she could feel his breath upon her forehead. " Why too
near ? You're always proud to me, mistress." 1
" I am proud to no one. You mistake me," answered
Dolly. " Fall back, if you please, or go on."
" Nay, mistress," he rejoined, endeavoring to draw her
arm through his. " I'll walk with y»u."
She released herself, and clinching her little hand,
struck him with right good will. At this, Maypole
Hugh burst into a roar of laughter, and passing his arm
about her waist, held her in his strong grasp as easily as
if she had been a bird.
" Ha, ha, ha ! Well done, mistress! Strike again.
You shall beat my face, and tear my hair, and pluck my
beard up by the roots, and welcome for the sake of your
bright eyes. Strike again, mistress. Do. Ha, ha, ha!
I like it."
BARNABY RUDGE.
241
" Let me go," she cried, endeavoring with both her
hands to push him off. " Let me go this moment."
"You had as good be kinder to me, Sweetlips," said
Hugh. "You had. indeed. Come. Tell me now.
Why are you always so proud ? I don't quarrel with
you for it. I love you when you're proud. Ha, ha, ha!
You can't hide your beauty from a poor fellow ; that's a
comfort!"
She gave him no answer, but as he had not yet
checked her progress, continued to press forward as
rapidly as she could. At length, between the hurry she
had made, her terror, and the tightness of his embrace,
her strength failed her, and she could go no farther.
" Hugh," cried the panting girl, " good Hugh ; if you
will leave me I will give you anything — everything I
have — and never tell one word of this to any living
creature." I
" You had best not," he answered. " Harkye, little
dove, you had best not. All about here know me, and
what 1 dare do if I have a mind. If ever you are going
to tell, stop when the words are on your lips, and think
of the mischief you'll bring, if you do, upon some inno-
cent heads that you wouldn't wish to hurt a hair of.
Bring trouble on me, and I'll bring trouble and some-
thing more on them in return. I care no more for them
than for so many dogs ; not so much — why should I ?
I'd sooner kill a man than a dog any day. I've never
been sorry for a man's death in all my life, and I have
for a dog's."
There was something so thoroughly savage in the
manner of these expressions, and the looks and gestures
by which they were accompanied, that her great fear of
him gave her new strength, and enabled her by a sudden
VOL. I. 16
242
BARNABT BUDGE.
effort to extricate herself and run fleetly from him. But
Hugh was as nimble, strong, and swift of foot, as any
man in broad England, and it was but a fruitless ex-
penditure of energy, for he had her in his encircling
arms again before she had gone a hundred yards, t
" Softly, darling—gently —would you fly from rough
Hugh, that loves you as well as any drawing-room gal-
lant ? "
" I would," she answered, struggling to free herself
again. "I will. Help!"
" A fine for crying out," said Hugh. " Ha, ha, ha!
A fine, pretty one, from your lips. I pay myself! Ha,
ha, ha!"
" Help! Help ! Help ! " As she shrieked with the
utmost violence she could exert, a shout was heard in
answer, and another, and another.
" Thank Heaven ! " cried the girl in an ecstasy. " Joe,
dear Joe, this way. Help! "
Her assailant paused, and stood irresolute for a mo-
ment, but the shouts drawing nearer and coming quick
upon them, forced him to a speedy decision. He re-
leased her, whispered with a menacing look, "Tell him:
and see what follows ! " and leaping the hedge, was gone
in an instant. Dolly darted off, and fairly ran into Joe
Willet's open arms.
" What is the matter! are you hurt! what was it!
who was it ? where is he ? what was he like ?" with a
great1 many encouraging expressions and assurances of
safety, were the first words Joe poured forth. But poor
little Dolly was so breathless and terrified that for some
time she was quite unable to answer him, and hung upon
his shoulder, sobbing and crying as if her heart would
break. >
BARNABY RUDGE.
243
Joe had not the smallest objection to have her hanging
on his shoulder ; no, not the least, though it crushed the
eherry-colored ribbons sadly, and put the smart little hat
out of all shape. But he couldn't bear to see her cry ;
it went to his very heart. He tried to console her, ben1
over her, whispered to her — some say kissed her, bu
that's a fable. At any rate he said all the kind and tender
things he could think of, and Dolly let him go on and
didn't interrupt him once, and it was a good ten minutes
before she was able to raise her head and thank him.
" What was it that frightened you ? " said Joe.
A man whose person was unknown to her had fol-
lowed her, she answered ; he began by begging, and
went on to threats of robbery, which he was on the point
of carrying into execution, and would have executed,
but for Joe's timely aid. The hesitation and confusion
with which she said this, Joe attributed to the fright she
had sustained, and no suspicion of the truth occurred to
him for a moment.
" Stop when the words are on your lips." A hundred
times that night, and very often afterwards, when the
disclosure was rising to her tongue, Dolly thought of
that, and repressed it. A deeply rooted dread of the
man; the conviction that his ferocious nature, once
roused, would stop at nothing ; and the strong assurance
that if she impeached him, the full measure of his wrath
and vengeance would be wreaked on Joe, who had pre
served her; these were considerations she had not the
courage to overcome, and inducements to secrecy too
oowerful for her to surmount.
Joe, for his part, was a great deal too happy to inquire
very curiously into the matter; and Dolly being yet too
tremulous to walk without assistance, they went forward
244
BARNABY RDDGE.
very slowly, and in his mind very pleasantly, until the
Maypole lights were near at band, twinkling their cheer-
ful welcome, when Dolly stopped suddenly, and with a
half scream exclaimed,— 1
" The letter!" 1 *
" What letter ? " cried Joe. ' ' ' • ■
" That I was carrying — I had it in my hand. My
bracelet too," she said, clasping her wrist. * I have lost
them both!"
" Do you mean just now ? " said Joe.
" Either I dropped them then, or they were taken
from me," answered Dolly, vainly searching her pocket
and rustling her dress. " They are gone, both gone.
What an unhappy girl I am!" With these words poor
Dolly, who to do her justice was quite as sorry for the
loss of the letter as for her bracelet, fell a-crying again,
and bemoaned her fate most movingly.
Joe tried to comfort her with the assurance that di-
rectly he had housed her safely in the Maypole, he
would return to the spot with a lantern (for it was now
quite dark) and make strict search for the missing ar-
tides, which there was great probability of his finding,
as it was not likely that anybody had passed that way
since, and she was not conscious of their having been
forcibly taken from her. Dolly thanked bim very
heartily for this offer, though with no great hope of his
quest being successful; and so, with many lamentations
on her side, and many hopeful words on his, and much
weakness on the part of Dolly, and much tender support-
ing on the part of Joe, they reached the Maypole bar at
last, where the locksmith and his wife and old John were
yet keeping high festival.
Mr. Willet received the intelligence of Dolly's trouble
BARNABY RUDGE.
245
with that surprising presence of mind and readiness of
Bpeeeh for which he was so eminently distinguished
above all other men. Mrs. Varden expressed her sym-
pathy for her daughter's distress by scolding her roundly
for being so late ; and the honest locksmith divided him-
self between condoling with and kissing Dolly, and shak-
ing hands heartily with Joe, whom he could not suffi-
ciently praise or thank.
In reference to this latter point, old John was far from
agreeing with his friend; for besides that he by no means
approved of an adventurous spirit in the abstract, it oc-
curred to him that if his son and heir had been seriously
damaged in a scuffle, the consequences would assuredly
have been expensive and inconvenient, and might per-
haps have proved detrimental to the Maypole business.
Wherefore, and because he looked with no favorable eye
upon young girls, but rather considered that they and
the whole female sex were a kind of nonsensical mistake
on the part of Nature, he took occasion to retire and
shake his head in private at the boiler; inspired by
which silent oracle, he was moved to give Joe various
stealthy nudges with his elbow, as a parental reproof
and gentle admonition to mind his own business and not
make a fool of himself.
Joe, however, took down the lantern and lighted it;
and arming himself with a stout stick, asked whether
Hugh was in the stable.
" He's lying asleep before the kitchen fire, sir," said
Mr. Willet. '" What do you want him for?" ''
" I want him to come with me to look after this brace-
let and letter," answered Joe. " Hollo there ! Hugh ! "
Dolly turned pale as death, and felt as if she must
faint forthwith. After a few moments, Hugh came stag-
246
BARNABY RUDGE.
gering in, stretching himself and yawning according to
custom, and presenting every appearance of having been
roused from a sound nap.
" Here, sleepy-head," said Joe, giving him the lantern.
' Carry this, and bring the dog, and that small cudgel
of yours. And woe betide the fellow if we come jpon
him."
" What fellow ? " growled Hugh, rubbing his eyes and
shaking himself.
" What fellow ? " returned Joe, who was in a state of
great valor and bustle; " a fellow you ought to know of,
and be more alive about. It's well for the like of you,
lazy giant that you are, to be snoring your time away
in chimney-corners, when honest men's daughters can't
cross even our quiet meadows at nightfall without being
set upon by footpads, and frightened out of their precious
lives."
" They never rob me," cried Hugh with a laugh. " I
have got nothing to lose. But I'd as lief knock them at
head as any other men. How many are there ? "
" Only one," said Dolly faintly, for everybody looked
at her.
" And what was he like, mistress ? " said Hugh with a
glance at young Willet, so slight and momentary that the
scowl it conveyed was lost on all but her. " About my
height ? "
"Not — not so tall," Dolly replied, scarce knowing
what she said.
" His dress," said Hugh, looking at her keenly, " like
— like any of ours now ? I know all the people here-
abouts, and maybe could give a guess at the man, if I
had anything to guide me."
Dolly faltered and turned paler yet; then answered
BARNABY RUDGE.
247
that he was wrapped in a loose coat and had his face
hidden by a handkerchief, and that she could give no
other description of him.
" You wouldn't know him if you saw him then, be-
like ?" said Hugh with a malicious grin.
" I should not," answered Dolly, bursting into tears
again. " I don't wish to see him. I can't bear to think
of him. I can't talk about him any more. Don't go to
look for these things, Mr. Joe, pray don't. I entreat you
not to go with that man."
" Not to go with me ! " cried Hugh. " I'm too rough
for them all. They're all afraid of me. Why, bless
you mistress, I've the tenderest heart alive. I love
all the ladies ma'am," said Hugh, turning to the lock-
smith's wife.
Mrs. Varden opined that if he did, he ought to be
ashamed of himself; such sentiments being more con-
sistent (so she argued) with a benighted Mussulman or
wild Islander than with a stanch Protestant. Arguing
from this imperfect state of his morals, Mrs. Varden
further opined that he had never studied the Manual.
Hugh admitting that he never had, and moreover that he
couldn't read, Mrs. Varden declared with much severity,
that he ought to be even more ashamed of himself than
before, and strongly recommended him to save up his
pocket-money for the purchase of one, and further to
teach himself the contents with all convenient diligence
She was still pursuing this train of discourse, whei
Hugh, somewhat unceremoniously and irreverently, fol-
lowed his young master out, and left her to edify the rest
of the company. This she proceeded to do, and finding
that Mr. Willet's eyes were fixed upon her with an ap-
pearance of deep attention, gradually addressed the whole
BA.RNABY RUDGE.
of her discourse to him, whom she entertained with a
moral and theological lecture of considerable length, in
the conviction that great workings were taking place in
his spirit. The simple truth was, however, that Mr.
Willet, although his eyes were wide open and he saw a
woman before him whose head by long and steady look-
ing at seemed to grow bigger and bigger until it filled
the whole bar, was to all other intents and purposes fast
asleep; and so sat leaning back in his chair with his
hands in his pockets until his son's return caused him to
wake up with a deep sjgh, and a faint impression that he
had been dreaming about pickled pork and greens — a
vision of his slumbers which was no doubt referable to
the circumstance of Mrs. Varden's having frequently
pronounced the word " Grace" with much emphasis;
which word, entering the portals of Mr. Willet's brain
as they stood ajar, and coupling itself with the words
" before meat," which were there ranging about, did m
time suggest a particular kind of meat together with
that description of vegetable which is usually its com-
panion.
The search was wholly unsuccessful. Joe had groped
along the path a dozen times, and among the grass, and
in the dry ditch, and in the hedge, but all in vain. Dolly,
who was quite inconsolable for her loss, wrote a note to
Miss Haredale giving her the same account of it that
she had given at the Maypole, which Joe undertook to
deliver as soon as the family were stirring next day.
That done, they sat down to tea in the bar, where there
was an uncommon display of buttered toast, and — in
order that they might not grow faint for want of sus-
tenance, and might have a decent halting-place or half-
way house between dinner and supper — a few savory
BARNABY RUDGE.
trifles in the shape of great rashers of broiled ham,
which being well cured, done to a turn, and smoking
hot, sent forth a tempting and delicious fragrance.
Mrs. Varden was seldom very Protestant at meals,
unless it happened that they were underdone, or over-
done, or indeed that anything occurred to put her out of
humor. Her spirits rose considerably on beholding these
goodly, preparations, and from the nothingness of good
works, she passed to the somethingness of ham and toaSt
with great cheerfulness. Nay, under the influence of
these wholesome stimulants, she sharply feproved her
daughter for being low and despondent (which she con-
sidered an unacceptable frame of mind), and remarked,
as she held her own plate for a fresh supply, that it
would be well for Dolly who pined over the loss of a
toy and a sheet of paper, if she would reflect upon the
voluntary sacrifices of the missionaries in foreign parts
who lived chiefly on salads.
The proceedings of such a day occasioned various
fluctuations in the human thermometer, and especially
in instruments so sensitively and delicately constructed
as Mrs. Varden. Thus, at dinner Mrs. V. stood at sum-
mer heat; genial, smiling, and delightful. After dinner,
in the sunshine of the wine, she went up at least half-a-
dozen degrees, and was perfectly enchanting. As its
effect subsided, she fell rapidly, went to sleep for an
hour or so at temperate, and woke at something below
freezing. Now she was at summer heat again, in the
shade; and when tea was over, and old John, producing
a bottle of cordial from one of the oaken cases, insisted
on her sipping two glasses thereof in slow succession,
she stood steadily at ninety for one hour and a quarter.
Profiting by experience, the locksmith took advantage
250 BARNABY RUDGE.
of this genial weather to smoke his pipe in the porch,
and in consequence of this prudent management, he was
fully prepared, when the glass went down again, to start
homewards directly.
The horse was accordingly put in, and the chaise
brought round to the door. Joe, who would on no ac-
count be dissuaded from escorting them until they had
passed the most dreary and solitary part of the road, led
out the gray mare at the same time; and having helped
Dolly into her seat (more happiness!) sprung gayly into
the saddle. Then, after many good-nights, and admoni-
tions to wrap up, and glancing of lights, and handing in
of cloaks and shawls, the chaise rolled away, and Joe
trotted beside it — on Dolly's side, no doubt, and pretty
close to the wheel too.
BARNABY RUDGE.
251
1 CHAPTER XXII.
It was a fine bright night, and for all her lowness of
spirits Dolly kept looking up at the stars in a manner so
bewitching (and she knew it!) that Joe was clean out of
his senses, and plainly showed that if ever a man were
—r not to say over head and ears, but over the Monu-
inent and the top of Saint Paul's in love, that man was
himself. The road was a very good one ; not at all a
jolting road, or an uneven one ; and yet Dolly held the
side of the chaise with one little hand, all the way. If
there had been an executioner behind him with an up-
lifted axe ready to chop off his head if he touched that
hand, Joe couldn't have helped doing it. From putting
his own hand upon it as if by chance, and taking it away
again after a minute or so, he got to riding along without
taking it off at all; as if he, the escort, were bound to
do that as an important part of his duty, and had come
out for the purpose. The most curious circumstance
about this little incident was, that Dolly didn't seem to
know of it. She looked so innocent and unconscious
when she turned her eyes on Joe, that it was quite
provoking.
She talked though ; talked about her fright, and about
Joe's coming up to rescue her, and about her gratitude,
and about her fear that she might not have thanked him
enough, and about their always being friends from that
time forth — and about all that sort of thing. And when
252
BARNABY BUDGE.
Joe said, not friends he hoped, Dolly was quite surprised,
and said not enemies she hoped; and when Joe said,
couldn't they be something much better than either,
Dolly all of a sudden found out a star which was brighter
than all the other stars, and begged to call his attention
to the same, and was ten thousand titnes more innocent
and unconscious than ever.
In this manner they travelled along, talking very little
above a whisper, and wishing the road could be stretched
out to some dozen times its natural length — at least that
was Joe's desire — when, as they were getting clear of
the forest and emerging on the more frequented road,
they heard behind them the sound of a horse's feet at a
_ round trot, which growing rapidly louder as it drew
nearer, elicited a scream from Mrs. Yarden, and the
cry " a friend!'" from the rider, who now came pant*
ing up, and checked his horse beside them.
" This man again!" cried Dolly, shuddering.
" Hugh!" 6aid Joe. " What errand are you upon ? "
" I come to ride back with you," he answered, glanc-
ing covertly at the locksmith's daughter. " He sent me."
" My father!" said poor Joe; adding under his breath,
with a very un filial apostrophe, " Will he never think
me man enough to take care of myself!"
" Ay!" returned Hugh to the first part of die in-
quiry. " The roads are not safe just new," he says,
"and you'd better have a companion,"
" Ride on then," said Joe. " I'm not going to turn
yet." t
Hugh complied, and they went on again. It was his
whim or humor to ride immediately before the chaise,
and from this position he constantly turned his head, aud
looked back. Dolly felt that he looked at her, but she
BARNABY BUDGE.
253
averted her eyes and feared to raise them once, so great
was the dread with which he had inspired her.
This interruption, and the consequent wakefulness of
Mrs. iV&rden, who had been nodding in her sleep up to
this point, except for a minute or two at a time, when
she roused herself to scold the locksmith for audaciously
taking hold of her to prevent her nodding herself out of
the chaise, put a restraint upon the whispered conversa-
tion, and made it difficult of resumption. Indeed, before
they had gone another mile, Gabriel stopped at his wife's
desire, and that good lady protested she would not hear
of Joe's going a step farther on any account whatever.
It was in vain for Joe to protest on the other hand that
he was by no means tired, and would turn back presently,
and would see them safely past such and such a point,
and so forth. Mrs. Varden was obdurate, and being so
was not to be overcome by mortal agency.
" Good-night — if I must say it," said Joe, sorrow-
fully.
" Good-night," said Dolly. She would have added,
44 Take care of that man, and pray don't trust him," but
he had turned his horse's head, and was standing close
to them. She had therefore nothing for it but to suffer
Joe to give her hand a gentle squeeze, and when the
chaise had gone on for some distance, to look back
and wave it, as he still lingered on the spot where
they had parted, with the tall dark figure of Hugh
beside him.
What she thought about, going home; and whether
the coach-maker held as favorable a place in her medita-
tious as he had occupied in the morning, is unknown.
They reached home at last — at last, for it was a long
way, made none the shorter by Mrs. Varden's grumbling.
254
BARNABY RUDGE.
Miggs hearing the sound of wheels was at the door im-
mediately.
" Here they are, Simmun ! Here they are!" cried
Miggs, clapping her hands, and issuing forth to help her
mistress to alight. " Bring a chair, Simmun. Now,
a'n't you the better for it, mim ? Don't you feel more
yourself than you would have done if you'd have stopped
at home ? Oh, gracious! how cold you are 1 Goodness
me, sir, she's a perfect heap of ice."
" I can't help it, my good girl. You had better take
her in to the fire," said the locksmith.
" Master sounds unfeeling, mim," said Miggs, in a tone
of commiseration, " but such is not his intentions, I'm
sure. After what he has seen of you this day, I never
will believe but that he has a deal more affection in his
heart than to speak unkind. Come in and sit yourself
down by the fire; there's a good dear — do."
Mrs. Varden complied. The locksmith followed with
his hands in his pockets, and Mr. Tappertit trundled
off with the chaise to a neighboring stable.
"Martha, my dear," said the locksmith, when they
reached the parlor, " if you'll look to Dolly yourself,
or let somebody else do it, perhaps it will be only kind
and reasonable. She has been frightened you know, and
is not at all well to-night."
In fact, Dolly had thrown herself upon the sofa, quite
regardless of all the little finery of which she had been
so proud in the morning, and with her face buried in her
hands was crying very much.
At first sight of this phenomenon (for Dolly was by
no means accustomed to displays of this sort, rather
learning from her mother's example to avoid them as
much as possible) Mrs. Varden expressed her belief that
BARNABY RUDGE.
255
never was any woman so beset as she: that her life! was
a continued scene of trial;,that whenever she was dis*
posed to be well and cheerful, so sure were the people
around her to throw, by some means or other, a damp
upon her spirits;,and that, as she had enjoyed herself
that day, and Heaven knew it was very seldom she did
cnjpy herself, so she was now to pay the penalty. To
all such propositions Miggs assented freely. Poor Dclly,
however, grew none the better for these restoratives; but
rather worse, indeed ; and seeing that she was really illy
both Mrs. Varden and Miggs were moved to compassion,
and tended her in earnest.
But even then, their very kindness shaped itself into
their usual course pf policy, and though Dolly was in a
swoon, it was rendered clear to the meanest capacity,
that Mrs. Varden was the sufferer. Thus when Dolly t
began to get a little better, and passed into that stage in
which matrons hold that remonstrance and aigument
may be successfully applied, her mother represented to
her, with tears in her eyes, that if she had been flurried
and worried that day, she must remember it I was the
common lot of humanity, and in especial of womankind,
who through the whole of their existence must expect no
less, and were bound to make up their minds to meek
endurance and patient resignation. Mrs. Varden en-
treated her to remember that one of these-days1 she
would, in all probability, have to do violence to her'feel-
ings so far as to be married; and that marriage, as she
might see every day/of her life (and truly, she' did) was
a state requiring great fortitude and forbearance. She
represented to her in lively colors, that if she (Mrs. V.)
had not, in steering her course* through this vale of tears,
been supported by a strong principle of duty which alone
256
BARNABY RUDGE.
upheld and prevented her from drooping, she must have
been in her grave many years ago; in which case she
desired to know what would have become of that errant
spirit (meaning the locksmith), of whose eyes she was
the very apple, and in whose path she was, as it were, a
shining light and guiding star ?
Miss Miggs also put in her word to the same effect.
She said that indeed and indeed Miss Dolly might take
pattern by her blessed mother, who, she always had said,
and always would say, though she were to be hanged,
drawn, and quartered for it next minute, was the mildest,
amiablest, forgivingest-spirited, longest-sufferingest female
as ever she could have believed ; the mere narration of
whose excellencies had worked such a wholesome change
in the mind of her own sister-in-law, that, whereas, be-
fore, she and her husband lived like cat and dog, and
were in the habit of exchanging brass candlesticks, pot-
lids, flat-irons, and other such strong resentments, they
were now the happiest and affectionatest couple upon
earth; as could be proved any day on application at
Golden Lion Court, number twenty-sivin, second bell-
handle on the right-hand door-post Afler glancing at
herself as a comparatively worthless vessel, but still as
one of some desert, she besought her to bear in mind
that her aforesaid dear and only mother was of a weaklj
constitution and excitable temperament, who had con-
stantly to sustain afflictions in domestic life, compared
with which, thieves and robbers were as nothing, and yet
never sunk down or gave way to despair or wrath, but,
in prize-fighting phraseology, always came up to time
with a cheerful countenance, and went in to win as if
nothing had happened. When Miggs had finished her
solo, her mistress struck in again, and the two together
BARNABY RUDGE.
25?
performed a duet to the same purpose; the burden
being, that Mrs. Varden was persecuted perfection, and
Mr. Yarden, as the representative of mankind in that
apartment, a creature of vicious and brutal habits, ut-
terly insensible to the blessings he enjoyed. Of so re-
fined a character, indeed, was their talent of assault
under the mask of sympathy, that when Dolly, re-
covering, embraced her father tenderly, as in vindica-
tion of his goodness, Mrs. Varden expressed her solemn
hope that this would be a lesson to him for the remain-
der of his life, and that he would do some little justice to
a woman's nature ever afterwards — in which aspiration
Mies Miggs, by divers sniffs and coughs, more significant
than the longest oration, expressed her entire concur-
rence. . I ■
But the great joy of Miggs's heart was, that she not
only picked up a full account of what had happened,
but had the exquisite delight of conveying it to Mr.
Tappertit for his jealousy and torture. For that gen-
tleman, on account of Dolly's indisposition, had been
requested to take his supper in the workshop, and it
was conveyed thither by Miss Miggs's own fair hands.
" Oh, Simmun !" said the young lady, " such goings
on to-day ! Oh, gracious me, Simmun !"
Mr. Tappertit, who was not in the best of humors,
and who disliked Miss Miggs more when she laid her
hand on her heart and panted for breath than at any
other time, as her deficiency of outline was most ap
parent under such circumstances, eyed her over in his
loftiest style, and deigned to express no curiosity what-
ever.
" I never heard the like, nor nobody else," pursued
Miggs. " The idea of interfering with her. What peo-
VOL. i. 17
BARNAJBY BUDGE.
pie can see in her to make it worth their while to do
so, that's the joke — he, he, be !"
Finding there was a lady in the case, Mr. Tappertit
haughtily requested his fair friend to be more explicit,
and demanded to know what she meant by " her."
" Why, that Dolly," said Miggs, with an extremely
sharp emphasis on the name. V But, oh upon my word,
and honor, young Joseph Willet is a brave one; and
he do deserve her, that he do."
f Woman !" said Me. Tappertit, jumping off the.eoun-
ter on which he was seated; "beware!"
'•'My stars, Simmun! " cried Miggs, in affected as ton-
ishment. "You frighten me to death! What's the
matter?"
" There are strings," said Mr. Tappertit, flourishing
his bread-and-cheese knife in the air, " ip the human
heart that had better not be wibrated. , That's what's
the matter."
"Oh, very well--if you're in a huff," cried Miggs,
turning away. I
" Huff or no huff," said Mr. Tappertit, detaining her
by the wrist " What do you mean, Jezebel ? What
were you going to say ? Answer me!"
Notwithstanding this uncivil exhortation, Miggs gladly
did as she was required; and told him how that their
young mistress, being alone in the meadows after dark,
had been attacked by three or four tall men, who would
have certainly borne her away and perhaps murdered
her, but for the timely arrival: of Joseph Willet, who
with his own single hand put them all to flight, and
rescued her; to the lasting admiration of his fellow-
creatures generally, and to the eternal love and gratitude
of Dolly Varden.
BARNABY RUDGE.
"Very good," said Mr. Tappertit, fetching a long
breath when the tale was told, and rubbing his hair up
till it stood stiff and straight on end all over his head.
" His days are numbered."
" Oh, Simmun ! "
" I tell you," said the 'prfetofice, " hie days are num
bered. Leave me. Get along with you."
Miggs departed at his bidding, but less because df
has bidding than because she desired to ebuekle in secret.
When she had given vent to her Satisfaction, she re-
ttimed to the parlor; Where the locksmith, stimulated
by quietness and Toby, bad beeofne talkative, and was
disposed to take a cheerful review of the occurrences of
the day. But Mrs. Varden, whose practical religion
(as is not uncommon) was usually of the retrospective
order, cut him short by declaiming on the sinfulness of
sadh junketings, and holding that it was high time to go
to bed. To bed therefore she withdrew, with an aspect
as grim and gloomy as that of the Maypole's Own state
couch; and to bed the rest of the establishment soon
afterwards repaired.
260
babnaby rodge.
. CHAPTER XXIII. !
Twilight had given place to night some hours, and
k was high noon in those quarters of the town in
which " the world " condescended to dwell — the world
being then, as now, of very limited dimensions and
easily lodged — when Mr. Chester reclined upon a sofa
in his dressing-room in the Temple, entertaining him-
self with a book.
He was dressing, as it seemed, by easy stages, and
having performed half the journey was taking a long
rest. Completely attired as to his legs and feet in the
trimmest fashion of the day, he had yet the remainder
of his toilet to perform. The coat was stretched, like
a refined scarecrow, on its separate horse; the waist-
coat was displayed to the best advantage; the various
ornamental articles of dress were severally set out
in most alluring order; and yet he lay dangling his
legs between the sofa and the ground, as intent upon
his book as if there were nothing but bed before
him.
" Upon my honor," he said, at length raising his eyes
to the ceiling with the air of a man who was reflect-
ing seriously on what he had read; "upon my honor, the
most masterly composition, the most delicate thoughts,
the finest code of morality, and the most gentlemanly
sentiments in the universe ! Ah Ned, Ned, if you would
but form your mind by such precepts, we should have
BARNABY RUDGE.
261
but one common feeling on every subject that could
possibly arise between us !"
This apostrophe was addressed, like the rest of his
remarks, to empty air: for Edward was not present, and
the father was quite alone.
" My Lord Chesterfield," he said, pressing his hand
tenderly upon the book as he laid it down, " if I could
but have profited by your genius soon enough to have
formed my son on the model you have left to all wise
fathers, both he and I would have been rich men. Shak-
speare was undoubtedly very fine in his way; Milton
good, though prosy ; Lord Bacon deep, and decidedly
knowing; but the writer who should be his country's
pride, is my Lord Chesterfield."
He became thoughtful again, and the toothpick was in
requisition.
" I thought I was tolerably accomplished as a man of
the world," he continued, " I flattered myself that I was
pretty well versed in all those little arts and graces
which distinguish men of the world from boors and
peasants, and separate their character from those in-
tensely vulgar sentiments which are called the national
character. Apart from any natural prepossession in
my own favor, I believed I was. Still, in every page
of this enlightened writer, I find some captivating hy-
pocrisy which has never occurred to me before, or some
superlative piece of selfishness to which I was utterly
a stranger. I should quite blush for myself before this
stupendous creature, if, remembering his precepts, one
might blush at anything. An amazing man ! a noble-
man indeed! any King or Queen may make a Lord,
but only the Devil himself — and the Graces — can
make a Chesterfield."
260
BARNABV RUDGE.
i CHAPTER XXIII. 1
Twilight had given place to night some hours, and
i was high noon in those quarters of the town in
which " the world " condescended to dwell — the world
being then, as now, of very limited dimensions and
easily lodged— when Mr. Chester reclined upon a sofa
in his dressing-room in the Temple, entertaining him-
self with a book.
He was dressing, as it seemed, by easy stages, and
having performed half the journey was taking a long
rest. Completely attired as to his legs and feet in the
trimmest fashion of the day, he had yet the remainder
of his toilet to perform. The coat was stretched, like
a refined scarecrow, on its separate horse; the waist-
coat was displayed to the best advantage; the various
ornamental articles of dress were severally set out
in most alluring order; and yet he lay dangling his
legs between the sofa and the ground, as intent upon
his book as if there were nothing but bed before
him.
" Upon my honor," he said, at length raising his eyes
to the ceiling with the air of a man who was reflect-
ing seriously on what he had read; " upon my honor, the
most masterly composition, the most delicate thoughts,
the finest code of morality, and the most gentlemanly
sentiments in the universe ! Ah Ned, Ned, if you would
but form your mind by such precepts, we should have
BARNABY RUDGE.
261
but one common feeling on every subject that could
possibly arise between us!"
This apostrophe was addressed, like the rest of his
remarks, to empty air: for Edward was not present, and
the father was quite alone.
" My Lord Chesterfield," he said, pressing his hand
tenderly upon the book as he laid it down, " if I could
but have profited by your genius soon enough to have
formed my son on the model you have left to all wise
fathers, both he and I would have been rich men. Shak-
speare was undoubtedly very fine in his way ; Milton
good, though prosy ; Lord Bacon deep, and decidedly
knowing; but the writer who should be his country's
pride, is my Lord Chesterfield."
He became thoughtful again, and the toothpick was in
requisition.
'• I thought I was tolerably accomplished as a man of
the world," he continued, " I flattered myself that I was
pretty well versed in all those little arts and graces
which distinguish men of the world from boors and
peasants, and separate their character from those in-
tensely vulgar sentiments which are called the national
character. Apart from any natural prepossession in
my own favor, 1 believed I was. Still, in every page
of this enlightened writer, I find some captivating hy-
pocrisy which has never occurred to me before, or some
superlative piece of selfishness to which I was utterly
a stranger. I should quite blush for myself before this
stupendous creature, if, remembering his precepts, one
might blush at anything. An amazing man ! a noble-
man indeed! any King or Queen may make a Lord,
but only the Devil himself — and the Graces — can
make a Chesterfield."
264
BARNABY RUDGE.
I " I'd rather stand," said Hugh. i
" Please yourself, my good fellow," returned Mr
Chester rising, slowly pulling off the loose robe he wore,
and sitting down before the dressing-glass. " Please
yourself by all means."
Having said this in the politest and blandest tone
possible, he went on dressing, and took no further no-
tice of his guest, who stood in the same spot as un-
certain what to do next, eying him sulkily from time
to time.
" Are you going to speak to me, master ?" he said,
after a long silence.
" My worthy creature," returned Mr. Chester, " you
are a little ruffled and out of humor. I'll wait till
you're quite yourself again. I am in no hurry."
This behavior had its intended effect. It humbled
and abashed the man, and made him still more irreso-
lute and uncertain. Hard words he could have returned,
violence he would have repaid with interest; but this
cool, complacent, contemptuous, self-possessed reception,
caused him to feel his inferiority more completely than
the most elaborate arguments. Everything contributed
to this effect. His own rough speech, contrasted with
the soft persuasive accents of the other; his rude bear-
ing, and Mr. Chester's polished manner; the disorder
and negligence of his ragged dress, and the elegant
attire he saw before him: with all the unaccustomed
luxuries and comforts of the room, and the silence that
gave him leisure to observe these things, and feel how
ill at ease they made him; all these influences, which
have ioo often some effect on tutored minds and become
of almost resistless power when brought to bear on
such a mind as his, quelled Hugh completely. He
BARNABY RUDGE.
265
moved by little and little nearer to Mr. Chester's chair,
and glancing over his shoulder at the reflection of his
face in the glass, as if seeking for some encouragement
in its expression, said at length, with a rough attempt
at conciliation.
" Are you going to speak to me, master, or am I to
go away?"
" Speak you," said Mr. Chester, " speak you, good
fellow. I have spoken, have I not ? I am waiting
for you."
" Why, look'ee sir," returned Hugh with increased
embarrassment, " am I the man that you privately left
your whip with before you rode away from the May-
pole, and told to bring it back whenever he might want
to see you on a certain subject ?"
" No doubt the same, or you have a twin brother,"
said Mr. Chester, glancing at the reflection of his anx-
ious face; " which is not probable, I should say."
" Then I have come, sir," said Hugh, " and I have
brought it back, and something else along with it. A
letter sir, it is, that I took from the person who had
charge of it." As he spoke, he laid upon the dressing-
table Dolly's last epistle. The very letter that had cost
her so much trouble.
".Did you obtain this by force, my good fellow?" said
Mr. Chester, casting his eye upon it without the least
perceptible surprise or pleasure.
" Not quite," said Hugh. " Partly."
" Who was the messenger from whom you took it ? "
" A woman. One Varden's daughter."
" Oh indeed," said Mr. Chester, gayly. " What else
did you take from her?"
" What else ? "
266
BARNABY BUDGE-
" Yes," said the »ther, ia a drawling manner, for he
was fixing a very small patch of sticking-plaster on a
very small pimple near the corner of his mouth. " What
else? "
« Well — a kiss," replied Hugh, after some hesitation.
* And what else ? "
" Nothing."
«I think/' said Mr. Chester, in the same easy tone,
3#d smiling twice or thrice to try if the patch adhered
— "I think there was something else. I have heard a
trifle of jewelry spoken of -—a mere trifle—-a thing of
Such little value, indeed, that you may have forgotten it.
Do, you remember anything of the kind — such as a
bracelet now, for instance ? "
Hugh with a muttered oath thrust bis hand into his
breast, and drawing the bracelet forth, wrapped in a
scrap of hay, was about to lay it on the table likewise,
when his patron stopped bis hand and bade him put it
up again.
You took that far yourself, my excellent friend1," he
said, "and may keep. it. I am neither a thief, nor a
receiver, Don't show it to me. You had better hide
it again, and lose no time. Don't let me see where
you put it either," he added, turning away his head.
41 You're; not a receiver !" said Hugh bluntly, dfespite
the increasing awe in which he held him. * What do
you call that, master?" striking the letter with his
heavy hand.
caU that quite another thing," said Mix Chester
coolly. " I shaH prove it presently, as you will see.
You W© thirsty, I suppose?"-
Hugh drew his sleeve across hia lips, and gruffly
answered yes.
BARNABT RUDGE.
267
" Step to that closet, and bring me a bottle yob will
see there, and a glass,"
He obeyed. His patron followed him with his eyes,
and when bis back was turned, smiled as he had never
done when he stood beside the mirror. On his return,
be filled the glass and bade hint drink. That dram
despatched, he poured him out another, and another.
" How many can you bear ?" he said, filling the glass
again.
" As many as you like to give me. Pour on. Pill
high. A bumper with a bead in the middle ! Give me
enough of this," he added, as he tossed it down his hairy
throat, " and I'll do murder if you ask toe! "
" As I don't toean to ask you, and yon might possibly
do it Without being invited if you went en much further"
said Mr. Chester with great composure* " We will stop,
if agreeable to you my good friend, at the next glass. —
You were drinking before yon came here;"
" I always am when I can get it," cried Hugh bolster-
ously, waving the empty glass above his head, and throw-
ing himself into a rude dancing attitudes " I always aw.
Why not ? Ha, ha, ha ! What's so good to toe as this ?
What ever has been ? What else has kept away the
cold and bitter nights, and drivfen hunger off in starving
limes ? What else has given me- the strength and coWr-
age of a man, when men would have left me to die, A
puny child ? I should never have had a man's heart but
for this. I should have died in a ditch; Where's he
who when- I was a weak and sickly wretch, with trem-
bling legs and- fading sight, bade me cheer up, as this
did ? I never knew him ; not I. I drink to the drink,
master. Ha, ha, ha! "
" You are an exceedingly cheerful young man " said
268
BARNABY RUDGE.
Mr. Chester, putting on his cravat with great delibera-
tion, and slightly moving his head from side to side to
settle his chin in its proper place. " Quite a boon com-
panion." . * ■ i • ■
" Do you see this hand, master," said Hugh, " and
this arm ? " baring the brawny limb to the elbow. " It
was once mere skin and bone, and would have been dust
in some poor church-yard by this time, but for the drink."
"You may cover it," said Mr. Chester, " it's sufficiently
real in your sleeve." 1
" I should never have been spirited up to take a kiss
from the proud little beauty, master, but for the drink,"
cried Hugh. " Ha, ha, ha! It was a good one. As
sweet as honeysuckle I warrant you. I thank the drink
for it. I'll drink to the drink again, master. Fill me
one more. Come. One more ! "
" You are such a promising fellow," said his patron,
putting on his waistcoat with great nicety, and taking no
heed of this request, " that I must caution you against
having too many^irapulses from the drink, and getting
hung before your time. What's your age ?"
* " I don't know."
"At any rate," said Mr. Chester, "you are young
enough to escape what I may call a natural death for
some years to come. How can you trust yourself in my
hands on so short an acquaintance, with a halter round
your neck. What a confiding nature yours must be!"
Hugh fell back a pace or two and surveyed him with
a look of mingled terror, indignation, and surprise. Re-
garding himself in the glass with the same complacency
as before, and speaking as smoothly as if he were dis-
cussing some pleasant chitchat of the town, his patron
went on : — • u
BARNABY RUDGE.
269
" Robbery on the king's highway, my young friend, is
a very dangerous and ticklish occupation. It is pleasant,
I have no doubt, while it lasts ; but like many other
pleasures in this transitory world, it seldom lasts long.
And really if, in the ingenuousness of youth, you open
your heart so readily on the subject, I am afraid your
career will be an extremely short one." -
" How's this ? " said Hugh. " "What do you talk of,
master? Who was it set me on?"
"Who?" said Mr. Chester, wheeling sharply round,
and looking full at him for the first time. " I didn't hear
you. Who was it ?" ! t .
Hugh faltered, and muttered something which was not
audible.
" Who was it ? I am curious to know," said Mr.
Chester, with surpassing affability. " Some rustic beauty
perhaps ? But be cautious, my good friend. They are
not always to be trusted. Do take my advice now, and
be careful of yourself." With these words he turned to
the glass again, and went on with his toilet.
Hugh would have answered him that he, the ques-
tioner himself, had set him on, but the words stuck in his
throat. The consummate art with which his patron had
led him to this point, and managed the whole conveisa-
tion, perfectly baffled him. He did not doubt that if he
had made the retort which was on his lips when Mr.
Chester turned round and questioned him so keenly, he
would straightway have given him into custody and had
him dragged before a justice with the stolen property
upon him; in which case it was as certain he would
have been hung as it was that he had been born. The
ascendancy which it was the purpose of the man of the
world to establish over this savage instrument, was
<270
BARNABYRUDGE.
gained from that 'time. ^Hugh's 'submission was com-
plete. He dreaded him beyond descriptionand felt
that accident and artifice had spun a web about him,
which at a touch from such a master-hand as his* would
bind him to the.gallows. * ■
With these thoughts passing 'through his niind, and
yet wondering at the very same time bow he Who came
there rioting sin the Confidence of this man (as he
thought), should be so soon and so thoroughly subdued,
■Hugh stood cowering before him, regarding him'uneasily
from time to time, while be finished dressing. When he
had done so, be took up the letter, broke the seal, and
throwing 'himself 'back in bis chair, read 'it leisurely
through.
^ Very neatly worded upon my life ! Quite a woman's
letter, full of what people call tenderness, and disinter-
estedness, and heart, and all that sort of thing!" >■
As he spoke, he twisted it up, and glancing 'lazily
round at Hugh as though he would say " You see this?"
held it in the flame of the candle. When it was in a
fulliblaze, be tossed it into the grate, and there it-emoul-
dered away.
^ It wa6 directed to my son,"'be said, turning to Hugh,
" and yon did quite right to bring it 'here. I opened it
on my awn responsibility, and you see what I have done
with it. 'Take this for your trouble:"
Hugh stepped forward to receive "the piece of money
he held out to 'him. As <he put it in his hand be
added:-i—
'f if you should happen to find anything else of this
sort, or to pick up any kind of information you may
think I would like to have, bring -it here, will you, my
good fellow ? "
BARNABY 'BUDGE.
271
This was-said with m smile1 which implied—or Hugh
thought itdid—"fail todo so at your peril !"* He an-
swered that he would. . .. i » * ♦
»*And don't," said his patron, with an air of the very
kindest patronage, "don't be at all downcast or uneasy
respecting that little rashness1 we bave been1 speaking of.
Your neck is as safe in 'my hands, my good fellow, as
Plough a baby's fingers Claspeddt, I assure your—»-'Tnke
another glass. You1 are quieter now."
fHugh accepted i it'from'his hand, and looking stealthily
-at his smiling face, drank the contents in silence.
i" Don't ynu -ti ha^ha ! — don?t you drink to the drink
any more ?" 6aid Mr: Chester, -in his most winning
.manner, m" *
" To you, sir," was the sullen answer, with something
gppreaching:to a bow. ■" I drink to you."
Thank you. God bless you. By 'the by, what is
-your name, my good soul ? You are called Hugh, I
know, of course — your other name ? "
■"I have no other name." . - • - J
"A very strange tfellow! Do you mean that you
never knew one, or that .you idonlt choose 'to tell it?
Which'.?". -I. i. i 1 . - ' • I ' •>» i i
"il'd tell it if I could," said Hugh, quickly. •"Ican't.
•I have been always called Hugh:; nothing raoi e. I
never knew, nor saw, nor thought about a father; and I
was a bay of six—that's not very old—iwhen ithey
aung my mother up at Tyburnfaria-couple a£ thousand
men to stare at. They might have let her live. She
was (poor enough." ■ • ■ ' .
I' .if flow very sad ! " exclaimed his patron, with a can-
descending smile. " I have no doubt she was an ex-
•eeedingly rfine woman."
272
BARNABY BUDGE.
" You see that dog of mine ? " said Hugh, abruptly.
" Faithful, I dare say?" rejoined his patron, looking
at him through his glass; "and immensely clever?
Virtuous and gifted animals, whether man or beast,
always are so very hideous."
" Such a dog as that, and one of the same breed, was
the only living thing except me that howled that day,"
said Hugh. " Out of the two thousand odd — there was
a larger crowd for its being a woman *— the dog and I
alone had any pity. If he'd have been a man, he'd have
been glad to be quit of her, for she had been forced to
keep him lean and half-starved; but being a dog, and
not having a man's sense, he was sorry."
"It was dull of the brute, certainly," said Mr. Chester,
" and very like a brute." > i •
Hugh made no rejoinder, but whistling to his dog,
who sprung up at the sound and came jumping and
sporting about him, bade his sympathizing friend good-
night.
" Good-night," he returned. " Remember ; you're
safe with me — quite safe. So long as you deserve it,
my good fellow, as I hope you always will, you have a
friend in me, on whose silence you may rely. Now do
be careful of yourself, pray do, and consider what jeop-
ardy you might have stood in. Good-night! bless
you."
Hugh truckled before the hidden meaning of these
words as much as such a being could, and crept out of
the door so submissively and subserviently — with an
air, in short, so different from that with which he had
entered — that his patron on being left alone, smiled
more than ever.
" And yet," he said, as he took a pinch of snufif, " I do
BARNABY BUDGE.
273
not like their having hanged his mother. The fellow
has a fine eye, and I am sure she was handsome. But
very probably she was coarse — red-nosed perhaps, and
had clumsy feet. Ay, it was all for the best, no doubt."
With this comforting reflection, he put on his coat,
took a farewell glance at the glass, and summoned his
man, who promptly attended, followed by a chair and its
two bearers.
" Foh !" said Mr. Chester. " The very atmosphere
that centaur has breathed, seems tainted with the cart
and ladder. Here, Peak, bring some scent and sprinkle
the floor; and take away the chair he sat upon, and air
it; and dash a little of that mixture upon me. 1 am
stifled!"
The man obeyed ; and the room and its master being
both purified, nothing remained for Mr. Chester but to
demand his hat, to fold it jauntily under his arm, to take
his seat in the chair and be carried off; humming a fash-
ionable tune.
VOL. I.
is
274
BARNABY BOJOK
CHAPTER XXIV. .
- • . ' . W f
How the accomplished gentleman spent the evening
in the midst of a dazzling and brilliant circle; how he
enchanted all those with whom he mingled by the grace
of his deportment, the politeness of his manner, the vi-
vacity of bis conversation, and the sweetness of his
voice; how it was observed in every corner, that Ches-
ter was a man of that happy disposition that nothing
ruffled him, that he was one on whom the world's cares
and errors sat lightly as his dress, and in whose smiling
face a calm and tranquil mind wan constantly reflected?
bow honest men, who by instinct knew him better,
bowed down before him nevertheless, deferred to his
every word, and courted his favorable notice; how peo-
pie, who really had good in them, went with the stream,
and fawned and flattered, and approved, and despised
themselves while they did so, and yet had not the cour-
age to resist; how, in short, he was one of those who
are received and cherished in society (as the phrase is)
by scores who individually would shrink from and be
repelled by the object of their lavish regard ; are things
of course, which will suggest themselves. Matter so
commonplace needs but a passing glance, and there an
end.
The despisers of mankind — apart from the mere
fools and mimics, of that creed — are of two sorts.
They who believe their merit neglected and unappreci-
BARNABY RUDGE.
275
ated, make up one class ■, they who receive adulation and
flattery, knowing their own worthlessness, compose the
other. Be sure that the coldest-hearted misanthropes
are ever of this last order.
Mr. Chester sat up in bed next morning, sipping his
coffee, and remembering with a kind of contemptuous
satisfaction how he had shone last night, and how he had
been caressed and courted, when his servant brought in
a very small scrap of dirty paper, tightly sealed in two
places, on the inside whereof was inscribed is pretty
large text these words. " A friend. Desiring of a con-
ferenoe. Immediate. Private. Burn it when you've
read it." m
* Where in the name of the Gunpowder Plot did you
pick up this ? " said his master.
It was given him by a person then waiting at the
door, the man replied.
" With a cloak and dagger?" said Mr. Chester.
With nothing more threatening about him,it appeared,
than a leather apron and a dirty face. " Let hint come
in." In he came — Mr. Tappertit; with his hair still
on end, and a great lock ia his hand, which he put down
on the floor in the middle of the chamber as if he were
about to go through some performances in which it was
a necessary agent.
" Sir," said Mr. Tappertit with a low bow, " I thank
you for this condescension, and am glad to see yon.
Pardon the menial office in which 1 am engaged, sir,
and extend your sympathies to one, who, humble as his
appearance is, has inn'ard workings far above his aUb-
turn." • ' i
Mr. Chester held the bed-curtain farther back, and
looked at bam with a vague impression that he was some
276
BARNABY BUDGE.
maniac, who had not only broken open the door of his
place of confinement, but had brought away the lock.
Mr. Tappertit bowed again, and displayed his legs to
'.he best advantage.
" You have heard, sir," said Mr. Tappertit, laying his
hand upon his breast, " of G. Varden Locksmith and
bell-hanger and repairs neatly executed in town and
country, Clerkenwell, London?"
" What then ? " asked Mr. Chester.
" I am his 'prentice, sir." .
" What then ?" j . .
"Ahem!" said Mr. Tappertit. "Would you permit
me to shut the door, sir, and will you further, sir, give
me your honor bright, that what passes between us is in
the strictest confidence ? "
Mr. Chester laid himself calmly down in bed again,
and turning a perfectly undisturbed face towards the
strange apparition, which had by this time closed the
door, begged him to speak out, and to be as rational as
he could, without putting himself to any very great per-
sonal inconvenience.
" In the first place, sir," said Mr. Tappertit, producing
a small pocket-handkerchief, and shaking it out of the
folds," as I have not a card about me (for the envy of
masters debases us below that level) allow me to offer
the best substitute that circumstances will admit of. If
you will take that in your own hand, sir, and cast your
eye on the right-hand corner," said Mr. Tappertit, offer-
ing it with a graceful air, " you will meet with my ere-
dentials."
" Thank you," answered Mr. Chester, politely accept-
ing, and turning to some blood-red characters at one end.
"'Four. Simon Tappertit. One.' Is that the"- ■
BARNABY RUDGE.
277
" Without the numbers, sir, that is rty name," replied
the 'prentice. " They are merely intended as directions
to the washerwoman, and have no connection with myself
or family. Tour name, sir," said Mr. Tappertit, look-
ing very hard at his nightcap, " is Chester, I suppose ?
Yau needn't pull it off, sir, thank you. I observe E. C.
from here. We will take the rest for granted."
, < Pray, Mr; Tappertit," said Mr. Chester, " has that
complicated piece of ironmongery which you have done
me the favor to bring with you, any immediate connec-
tion with the business we are to discuss ? "
"It.,has not, sir," rejoined the'prentice. "It's going
to be fitted on a ware'us door in Thames Street."
" Perhaps, as that is the case," said Mr. Chester,
"and as it has a stronger flavor of oil than I usually
refresh my bedroom with, you will oblige me so far as to
put it outside the door ?" «- ' ■ . i .
" By all means, sir," said Mr. Tappertit, suiting the
action to the word.
" You'll excuse my mentioning it, I hope ? " I
" Don't apologize, sir, I beg. And now, if you please,
to business." I ,
During the whole of this dialogue, Mr. Chester had
suffered nothing but his smile of unvarying serenity and
politeness to appear upon his face. Sim Tappertit, who
had far too good an opinion of himself to suspect that
anybody could be playing upon him, thought within him-
self that this was something like the respect to which he
was entitled, and drew a comparison from this courteous
demeanor of a stranger, by no means favorable to the
worthy locksmith.
" From what passes in our house," said Mr. Tapper-
tit, " I am aware, sir, that your son keeps company with
278
BARNABY RUDGE.
'a young lady against your inclinations. Sir, yotlr son
has not used me well." ' • 1
" Mr. Tappertit," said the other, "you grieve me be-
yond description."
" Thank you, sir," replied (the 'prentice. * I'm glad
to hear you say so. He's very proud, sir, is your eon;
very haughty." - ' ' -
I am afraid hew haughty," said Mr. Chester. ^'Do
you know I was really afraid of that before; and you
confirm mei?"
" To recount the menial offices 'I've had'to do : for your
son, sir," Said Mr. Tappertit ;"<the chairs I've had to hand
him, the coaches :Bve (had >todjall for him, the numerous
degradihg duties, wholly unconnected with my indetiters,
that I've had to do for him, would -fill a family Bible.
'Besides which, sir, he is but a. young, man himself, (and I
do not consider ' thank'ee Sim' a proper -form >of ad-
dress on 'those occasions." . . # *
" Mr. Tappertit, your wisdom is beyond your years.
Pray go onl" • i .• • • -i - . . :
"J (thank yon for your good opinion, >sir," said (Sim,
much gratified, " and will endeavor so to do. Now, sir,
on this account ((and perhaps for another reason or two
which I needn't go into) I am on your side. And What
I fell you is (this — that :as long as our people go back-
wards and forwards, to (and fro, up and down, to that
there jdlly old Maypole, 'lettering, and (messaging, and
fetching-and carrying, you couldn't help your son keep-
ing company with that young lady by deputy, —not if
he was minded night and day by all the Horse Guards,
and every man of 'em, in the very fullest uniform."
Mr. Tappertit stopped to -take breath after this, and
then started fresh again. ,
BARNABY, RUDGE.
" Now, sir, I. am a-coming to, the point. You/ will
inquire of. me, 'how. is this, to be prevented?' I'll
tell ypu how. If an. honest, civil, smiling gentleman
like you/' —
" Mr. Tappertit -^-..really " ——
" No, no-, I'm serious," rejoined: the 'prentice, "I am,
upon my? soul.. If an-honest, civil, smiling gentleman.,
like you, was to talk, hut ten minutes to our-old.woman
— that's Mrs. Varden,—and flatter-her up a hit, you'd,
gain her over forever, , Then there's this point got—that
her daughter Dolly," — here-a,flush came over Mr. Tap-
pertit's face — " wouldn't be. allowed to, be a go-between
from that time forward; and till that point's got, there's,
nothing ever will prevent her. Mind,that." , r,
" Mr. Tappertit, your knowledge of human nature"--
" Waitja, minute/' said Sim, folding, his arms with ,a,,
dreadful calmness, "Now, I come to the point,. Sir,,
there is a, villain at that Maypole, , a monster in
human shape, a vagabond of the deepest dye, that
unless you get rid. of., and have kidnapped and]car-
ried off at the very least — nothing, less will; do—
will, marry your son to that young woman, as cer-
tainly and surely as if he was the Archbishop of-
Canterbury himself He will, sir, for the hatred and
malice that he bears to you ;f let alone the pleasure of
doing a bad action, which to him. is its,:own reward.
If you knew how this chap, this Joseph Willet—that's
his, name — comes backwards, and forwards to our
house, libelling, and denouncing, and. threatening you,
and how I shudder when I hear him, you'd hate
him worse than I do, — worse than I do, sir," said
Mr. Tappertit wildly, putting his hair up straighter,
and making a crunching noise with his teeth; " if
rich a thing is possible."
280
BAKNABY RUDGE.
" A little private vengeance in this, Mr. Tappertit ?"
" Private vengeance, sir, or public sentiment, or both
combined — destroy him," said Mr. Tappertit. " Miggs
says so too. Miggs and me both say so. We can't
bear the plotting and undermining that takes place. Our
souls recoil from it. Barnaby Rudge and Mrs. Rudge
are in it likewise; but the villain, Joseph Willet, is
the ringleader. Their plottings and schemes are known
to me and Miggs. If you want information of 'em, ap-
ply to us. Put Joseph Willet down, sir. Destroy him.
Crush him. And be happy."
With these words, Mr. Tappertit, who seemed to ex-
pect no reply, and to hold it as a necessary consequence
of his eloquence that his hearer should be utterly
stunned, dumfounded, and overwhelmed, folded his
arms so that the palm of each hand rested on the
opposite shoulder, and disappeared after the manner
of those mysterious warners of whom he had read in
cheap story-books.
" That fellow," said Mr. Chester, relaxing his face
when he was fairly gone, " is good practice. I have
some command of my features, beyond all doubt.
He fully confirms what I suspected, though ; and
blunt tools are sometimes found of use, where sharper
instruments would fail. I fear I may be obliged to
make great havoc among these worthy people. A
troublesome necessity ! I quite feel for them."
With that he fell into a quiet slumber: — subsided
into such a gentle, pleasant sleep, that it was quite
infantine.
barnaby budge.
281
CHAPTER XXV.
# • ' 1 .♦ »
Leaving the favored, and well-received, and flattered
of the world; him of the world most worldly, who never
compromised himself by an ungentlemanly action, and
never was guilty of a manly one ? to lie smilingly asleep
— for even sleep, working but little change in his dis-
sembling face, became with him a piece of cold, conven-
tional hypocrisy — we follow in the steps of two slow
travellers on foot, making towards Chigwell.
Barnaby and his mother. Grip in their company of
course. 1
The widow, to whom each painful mile seemed longer
than the last, toiled wearily along; while Barnaby, yield-
ing to every inconstant impulse, fluttered here and there,
now leaving her far behind, now lingering far behind
himself, now darting into some by-lane or path and
leaving her to pursue her way alone, until he stealth-
ily emerged again and came upon her with a wild shout
of merriment, as his wayward and capricious nature
prompted. Now he would call to her from the top-
most branch of some high tree by the roadside ; now
using his tall staff as a leaping-pole, come flying over
ditch or hedge or five-barred gate; now run with sur-
prising swiftness for a mile or more on the straight road, -
and halting, sport upon a patch of grass with Grip till
she came up. These were his delights; and when his
patient mother heard his merry voice, or looked into
282
BARNABY BUDGE.
his flushed and healthy face, she would not have abated
them by one sad word or murmur, though each had been
to her a source of suffering in the same degree as it was
to him of pleasure.
It is something to look upon enjoyment, so that it be
free and wild and in the face of nature, though it is but
the enjoyment of an idiot. It is something to know that
Heaven has left the capacity of gladness « such a erea-
tare's breast j it is something to be assured that, however
lightly men may crush that faculty in their fellows, the
Great Creator of mankind imparts it erven to his do
spised and slighted work. Who would not rather see
a poor idiot happy in the sunlight, than a wise man pin-
ing in a darkened jail! >.•
Ye men of gloom and austerity, who paint the face of
Infinite Benevolence with an eternal frown; read in the
Everlasting Book, wide open to your view, the lesson it
would teach. Its pictures are not in black and sombre
hues, but bright and glowing tints; its mosie — save
when ye drown it —is not in sighs and groans, but songs
and cheerful sounds. Listen to the million voices in the
summer air, and find one dismal as your own. Re mem*-
ber, if ye can, the sense of hope and pleasure which
every glad return of day awakens in the breast of all
your kind who have not changed their nature ; and learn
some wisdom even from the witless; when their hearts
are lifted up they know not why, by all the mirth and
happiness it brings.
The widow's breast was full of care, was laden heavily
with secret dread and sorrow ; but her boy's gayety of
heart gladdened her, and beguiled the long journey.
Sometimes he would bid her lean upon his arm, and
would keep beside her steadily for a short distance; bet
BAKNABY BUDGE.
283
it was more his nature to be rambling to and fro, and
she batter liked to see him free and happy, even than
to lave him near her, because she loved him better than
herself.
She had quitted the place to which they were travel-
ling, directly after the event which had changed her
whole existence; and for two and twenty years had
never had eowage to revisit k. It was her native vil-
lagq. How many recollections crowded on her mind
when it appeared in sight! •. t 4
Two-and-twenty-years. Her- boy's whole life and h».
tory. The last time she looked back upon those roots
among the trees, she carried him. in her arms, an infant.
How often since that time had she sat beside him night
and day, watching for the dawn of mind that never
cames bpw, had she feared, and doubted, and yet hoped,
long after conviction forced itself upon her ! The little
stratagems she had devised to try him, the little tokens
he had given in his childish way not of dulness but
of something infinitely worse, so ghastly and tmehildlike
in its cunning — came back as vividly as. if but yester-
day had intervened. The room in which they used tn
be ; the spot in which his cradle stood ; he old and elfin-
like in face, bat ever dear to. her, gazing at her with a
wild, and vacant eye, and crooning some uncoatb song as
she sat by and rocked him* every circumstance of his
infancy came thronging back, and the most trivial, per-
haps, the most distinctly. i-. t -
^ilis older childhood, too. t the strange imaginings he
had; his terror of certain senseless things—familiar oh-
jects he endowed with life; the slow and gradual break-
u»g out of that, one horror, in which, before hia birth, his,
darkened intellect began*; how, in the midst of all, she
284
BARSJABY RUDGE.
had found some hope and comfort in his being unlike
another child, and had gone on almost believing in the
slow development of his mind until he grew a man, and
then his childhood was complete and lasting; one after
another, all these old thoughts sprung up within her,
strong after their long slumber and bitterer than ever.
She took his arm and they hurried through the vil-
lage street It was the same as it was wont to be in
old times, yet different too, and wore another air. The
change was in herself, not it; but she never thought of
that, and wondered at its alteration, and where it lay,
and what it was. •> <•* *
The people all knew Barnaby, and the children of the
place came flocking round him — as she remembered to
have done with their fathers and mothers, round some
silly beggarman, when a child herself. None of them
knew her; they passed each well-remembered house,
and yard, and homestead; and striking into the fields,
were soon alone again. • -
The Warren was the end of their journey. Mr. Hare-
dale was walking in the garden, and seeing them as they
passed the iron gate, unlocked it, and bade them enter
that way.
" At length you have mustered heart to visit the old
place," he said to the widow. "I am glad you have."
"For the first time, and the last, sir," she replied.
* The first for many years, but not the last ? "
" The very last."
" You mean," said Mr. Haredale, regarding her with
some surprise, " that having made this effort, you are
resolved not to persevere and are determined to re-
lapse ? This is unworthy of you. I have often told
you, you should return here. You would be happier
BARNABY RODGE.
285
here than elsewhere, I know. As to Barnaby, it's quite
his home."
"And Grip's," said Barnaby, holding the basket open.
The raven hopped gravely out, and perching on his
shoulder and addressing himself to. Mr. Haredale, cried
— as a hint, perhaps, that some temperate refreshment
would be acceptable — " Polly put the ket-tle on, we'll
all have tea! "
" Hear me, Mary," said Mr. Haredale kindly, as he
motioned her to walk with him towards the house.
" Your life has been an example of patience and forti-
tude, except in this one particular which has often given
me great pain. It is enough to know that you were
cruelly»involved in the calamity which deprived me
of an only brother, and Emma of her father, without
being obliged to suppose (as I sometimes am) that
you associate us with the author of our joint misfor-
tunes." i v
" Associate you with him, sir !" she cried.
"Indeed," said Mr. Haredale, "I think you do. I
almost believe that because your husband was bound by
so many ties to our relation, and died in his service and
defence, you have come in some sort to connect us with
his murder." - *
" Alas !" she answered. " You little know my heart,
sir. You little know the truth! "
" It is natural you should do so; it is very probable
you may, without being conscious of it," said Mr. Hare-
dale, speaking more to himself than her. "We are a
fallen house. Money, dispensed with the most lavish
hand, would be a poor recompense for sufferings like
yours; and thinly scattered by hands so pinched and tied
as ours, it becomes a miserable mockery. I feel it so,
286
BAKNABY. BUDGE.
God knows," be added, jiastily, '"Why should I. wonder
if she does ! "
" You do • me wrong, dear sir, indeed," she rejoined
with great earnestnessand yet when.you come to
hear what I desire your leave to say " —
"I shall find my doubts confirmed?," he said, observ.
ing that she faltered and became confused.- " Well !"
He quickened his pace for a few steps,' bat fell, baoY
again to, her side, and said :«—>■ . , ,
.And-bavet ypn come all, this, way at last, solely, to,
speak to me?"
, She answered,," Yes.".
"A curse," hemuttared,." upon .the f wretehed, state ofr
us, proud beggars,,, from, whom the poor and rich! are
equally at a, distance the one being,,forced to treat us,
with a show of cold respect; the other condescending Br
us in their every deed and word, and keeping more aloof
the nearer they approach us. — Why, if it were pain toi
you (as it must have been) to, break .for this sligbt'pur-
ppse the chain of habit forged through two-aad-twerrty
yjaars, .could you not let me know your; wish, and beg mo
to come to you ? "
" There was not time, sir/' she rejoined. " I took my
resolution but last night, and taking it, felt thatil< must;
not lose a day,—& day ! an hour—in having speech
with you." ,
They had by this time reached, the house. Mr. Hare-
dale paused for a moment, and looked at her as if, surf
prised by/the energy of her manuer. Observing, how-
ever, that she took no> heed of him, but glanced up,
shuddering, at the old walls with which such horrors
were connected, in her mind,, he, led her byatprivate
stair into his library, where Emma was seated in »s
window, reading.
BARNABY RUDGE.
287
The young lady, seeing who approached, hastily rose
and laid aside her book, and with many kind words, and
not without tears, gave her a warm and earnest welcome.
But the widow shrunk from her embrace as though she
feared her, and sunk down trembling on a chair.
" It is the return to this place after so long an
sence," said Emma gently. " Pray ring, dear uncle
— or stay — Barnaby will run himself and ask for
wine " —
Not for the world," she cried. " It would have
another taste — I could not touch it I want but a
minute's rest. Nothing but that."
Miss Haredale stood beside her chair, regarding her
with silent pity. She remained for a little time quite
still; then rose and turned to Mr. Haredale, who had
6at down in his easy-chair, and was contemplating her
with fixed attention.
The tale connected with the mansion borne in mind, it
seemed, as has been already said, the chosen theatre for
such a deed as it had known. The room in which this
group were now assembled — hard by the very cham-
ber where the act was done — dull, dark, and sombre;
heavy with worm-eaten books; deadened and shut in by
faded hangings, muffling every sound ; shadowed mourn-
fully by trees whose rustling boughs gave ever and anon
a spectral knocking at the glass; wore, beyond all others
in the house, a ghostly, gloomy air. Nor were the group
assembled there, unfitting tenants of the spot. The
widow, with her marked and startling face and downcast
eyes; Mr. Haredale stern and despondent ever; his
niece beside him, like, yet most unlike, the picture of her
father, which gazed reproachfully down upon them from
the blackened wall; Barnaby, with his vacant look and
288
BARNABY RUDGE.
restless eye; were all in keeping with the place, and
actors in the legend. Nay, the very raven, who had
hopped upon the table and with the air of some old
necromancer appeared to be profoundly studying a great
folio volume that lay open on a desk, was strictly in
Onison with the rest, and looked like the embodied spirit
of evil biding his time of mischief.
" I scarcely know," said the widow, breaking silence,
"how to begin. You will think my mind disordered."
" The whole tenor of your quiet and reproachless
life since you were last here," returned Mr. Haredale,
mildly, " shall bear witness for you. Why do you fear
to awaken such a suspicion ? You do not speak to
strangers. You have not to claim our interest or con-
sideration for the first time. Be more yourself. Take
heart. Any advice or assistance that I can give you,
you know is yours of right, and freely yours."
" What if I came, sir," she rejoined, " I who have but
one other friend on earth, to reject your aid from this
moment, and to say that henceforth I launch myself upon
the world, alone and unassisted, to sink or swim as
Heaven may decree I" -
"You would have, if you came to me for such a
purpose," said Mr. Haredale calmly, " some reason to
assign for conduct so extraordinary, which — if one may
entertain the possibility of anything so wild and strange
— would have its weight, of course."
" That, sir," she answered, " is the misery of my dia-
tress. I can give no reason whatever. My own bare
word is all that I can offer. It is my duty, my impera-
tive and bounden duty. If I did not discharge it, J
should be a base and guilty wretch. Having said that,
toy lips are sealed, and I can say no more."
BARNABY RUDGE.
289
As though she felt relieved at having said so much,
and had nerved herself to the remainder of her task,
she spoke from this time with a firmer voice and L eigh-
tened courage, < '
"Heaven is my witness, as my own heart is —and
yours, dear young lady, will speak for me, I know — that
I have lived, since that time we all have bitter reason
to remember, in unchanging devotion, and gratitude to
this family. Heaven is my witness that go where I
may, I shall preserve those feelings unimpaired. And
it' is? my witness, too, that they alone impel me to the
course I must take, and from which nothing now shall
turn me, as I hope for mercy."
"These are strange riddles," said Mr. Haredale.
"In this world, sir," she replied, * they may, per-
haps, never be explained. In another, the Truth will
be discovered in its own good time. And may that
time," she added in a low voice, " be far distant! "
" Let me be sure," said Mr. Haredale, " that I under-
stand 'you, for I am doubtful of my own senses. Do
you mean that you are resolved voluntarily to deprive
yourself of those means of support you have received
from us so long — that you are determined to resign the
annuity we settled on you twenty years ago — to leave
house, and home, and goods, and begin life anew — and
this, for some secret reason or monstrous fancy which
is incapable of explanation, which only now exists, and
has been dormant all this time ? In the name of God,
under what delusion are you laboring ? "
"As I am deeply thankful," she made answer, "for
the kindness of those, alive and dead, who have owned
this house ; and as I would not have its roof fall down
and crush me, or its very walls drip blood, my name
VOL. i • 19
290
BARNABY RUDGE.
being spoken in their hearing; I never will again sub-
sist upon their bounty, or let it help me to subsistence.
You do not know," she added suddenly, " to what uses it
may be applied ; into what hands it may pass. I do, and
I renounce it." K • •
" Surely," said Mr. Haredale, " its uses rest with you."
" They did. They rest with me no longer. It may
be — it is — devoted to purposes that mock the dead
in their graves. It never can prosper with me. It
will bring some other heavy judgment on the head of
my dear son, whose innocence will suffer for his mother's
guilt" I
" What words are these!" cried Mr. Haredale, re-
garding her with wonder. " Among what associates
have you fallen P Into what guilt have you ever been
betrayed ? "
" I am guilty, and yet innocent; wrong, yet right;
good in intention, though constrained to shield and aid
the bad. Ask me no more questions, sir; but believe
that I am rather to be pitied than condemned. 1 must
leave my house to-morrow, for while I stay there, it is
haunted. My future dwelling, if I am to live in peace,
must be a secret. If my poor boy should ever stray this
way, do not tempt him to disclose it or have him watched
when he returns; for if we are hunted, we must fly
again. And now this load is off my mind, I beseech
yon—- and you, dear Miss Haredale, too—to trust me
if you can, and think of me kindly as you have been used
to do. If I die and cannot tell my secret even then (for
that may come to pass), it will sit the lighter on my
breast in that hour for this day's work ; and on that day,
and every day until it comes, I will pray for and thank
you both, and trouble you no more."
BARNABY RUDGE.
291
With that, she would have left them, but they detained
her, and with many soothing words and kind entreaties
besought her to consider what she did, and above all to
repose more freely upon them, and say what weighed so
sorely on her mind. Finding her deaf to their persua-
sions, Mr. Haredale suggested, as a last resource, that
she should confide in Emma, of whom, as a young person
and one of her own sex, she might stand in less dread
than of himself. From this proposal, however, she re-
coiled with the same indescribable repugnance she had
manifested when they met. The utmost that could be
wrung from her was, a promise that she would receive
Mr. Haredale at her own house next evening, and in the
mean time reconsider her determination and their dis-
suasions — though any change on her part, as she told
them, was quite hopeless. This condition made at last,
they reluctantly suffered her to depart, since she would
neither eat nor drink within the house; and she, and
Barnaby, and Grip, accordingly went out as they had
come, by the private stair and garden gate ; seeing and
being seen of no one by the way.
It was remarkable in the raven that during the whole
interview he had kept his eye on his book with exactly
the air of a very sly human rascal, who, under the mask of
pretending to read hard, was listening to everything. He
still appeared to have the conversation very strongly in
his mind, for although when they were alone again, he
issued orders for the instant preparation of innumerable
kettles for purposes of tea, he was thoughtful, and rather
seemed to do so from an abstract sense of duty, than
with any regard to making himself agreeable, or being
what is commonly called good company.
They were to return by the coach. As there was an
292
BARNABY BUDGE.
interval of full two hours before it started, and they
needed rest and some refreshment, Barnaby begged
hard for a visit to the Maypole. But his mother, who
had no wish to be recognized by any of those who had
known her long ago, and who feared besides that Mr.
Haredale might, on second thoughts, despatch some roes-
senger to that place of entertainment in quest of her,
proposed to wait in the church-yard instead. As it was
easy for Barnaby to buy and carry thither such humble
viands as they required, he cheerfully assented, and in
the church-yard they sat down to take their frugal dinner.
Here again, the raven was in a highly reflective state;
walking up and down when he had dined, with an air of
elderly complacency which was strongly suggestive of
his having his hands under his coat-tails; and appearing
to read the tombstones with a very critical taste. Some-
times, after a long inspection of an epitaph, he would
strop his beak upon the grave to which it referred, and
cry in his hoarse tones, " I'm a devil, I'm a devil, I'm a
devil! " but whether he addressed his observations to
any supposed person below, or merely threw them off
as a general remark, is matter of uncertainty.
It was a quiet pretty spot, but a sad one for Barna-
by's mother; for Mr. Reuben Haredale lay there, and
near the vault in which his ashes rested, was a stone to
the memory of her own husband, with a brief inscription
recording how and when he had lost his life. She sa
here, thoughtful and apart, until their time was out, and
the distant horn told that the coach was coming. ,
Barnaby, who had been sleeping on the grass, sptung '
up quickly at the sound; and Grip, who appeared to un-
derstand it equally well, walked into his basket straight-
way, entreating society in general (as though he intended
BAKNABY BUDGE.
293
a kind of satire upon them in connection with church-
yards) never to say die on any terms. They were soon
on the coach-top and rolling along the road.
It went round by the Maypole, and stopped at the
door. Joe was from home, and Hugh came sluggishly
out to hand up the parcel that it called for. There was
no fear of old John coming out. They could see him
from the coach-roof fast asleep in his cosey bar. It
was a part of John's character. He made a point of
going to sleep at the coach's time. He despised gadding
about; he looked upon coaches as things that ought to
be indicted; as disturbers of the peace of mankind; as
restless, bustling, busy, horn-blowing contrivances, quite
beneath the dignity of men, and only suited to giddy girls
that did nothing but chatter and go a-shopping. " We
know nothing about coaches here, sir," John would say,
if any unlucky stranger made inquiry touching the often-
sive vehicles; " we don't book for 'em ; we'd rather not;
they're more trouble than they're worth, with their noise
and rattle. If you like to wait for 'em you can ; but we
don't know anything about 'em ; they may call and they
may not — there's a carrier — he was looked upon as
quite good enough for us, when I was a boy."
She dropped her veil as Hugh climbed up, and while
he hung behind and talked to Barnaby in whispers. But
neither he nor any other person spoke to her, or noticed
her, or had any curiosity about her; and so, an alien, she
visited and left the village where she had been born,
and had lived a merry child, a comely girl, a happy wife
-r- where she had known all her enjoyment of life, and
had entered on its hardest sorrows.
294
BARNABY RTOGE.
CHAPTER XXVI.
" And you're not surprised to hear this, Varden :"
said Mr. Haredale. * Well! You and she have always
been the best friends, and you should understand her if
anybody does."
" I ask your pardon, sir," rejoined the locksmith. " I
didn't say I understood her. I wouldn't have the pre-
sumption to say that of any woman. It's hot so easily
dofte. But I am not so much surprised, sir, as you ex-
pected me to be, certainly."
" May I ask why not, my good friend?" '
" I have seen, sir," returned the locksmith with evident
reluctance, " I have seen in connection with her, some-
thing that has filled me with distrust and uneasiness.
She has made bad friends, how, or when, I don't know;
but that her house Is a refuge for one robber and cut-
throat at least, I am certain. There, sir! Now it's
out." *
" Varden! *
" My own eyes, sir, are my witnesses, and for her sake
I would be willingly half-blind, if I could but have the
pleasure of mistrusting 'em. I have kept the secret till
now, and it will go no further than yourself, I know; but
I tell you that with my own eyes — broad awake — I
saw, in the passage of her house one evening after dark,
the highwayman who robbed and wounded Mr. Edward
Chester, and on the same night threatened me."
BAENABY RUDGE.
295
" And you made no effort to detain him : " said Mr.
Haredale quickly.
" Sir," returned the locksmith, " she herself prevented
ine — held me, with all her strength, and hung about me
until he had got clear off." And having gone so far, he
related circumstantially all that had passed upon the night
in question.
This dialogue was held in a low tone in the locksmith's
little parlor, into which honest Gabriel had shown his
visitor on his arrival. Mr. Haredale had called upon
him to entreat his company to the widow's, that he might
have the assistance of his persuasion and influence; and
out of this circumstance the conversation had arisen.
" I forbore," said Gabriel, " from repeating one word
of this to anybody, as it could do her no good and might
do her great harm. I thought and hoped, to say the truth,
that she would come to me, and talk to me about it, and tell
me how it was; but though I have purposely put my-
self in her way more than once or twice, she has never
touched upon the subject — except by a look. And in-
deed," said the good-natured locksmith, " there was a
good deal in the look, more than could have been put
into a great many words. It said among other matters
' Don't ask me anything' so imploringly, that I didn't ask
her anything. You'll think me an old fool I know, sir.
If it's any relief to call me one, pray do."
" I am greatly disturbed by what you tell me," said
Mr. Haredale, after a silence. " What meaning do you
Utach to it ? " i
The locksmith shook his head, and looked doubtfully
jut of window at the failing light.
" She cannot have married again," said Mr. Haredale.
* Not without our knowledge surely, sir."
296
BARNABY RUDGE.
" She may have done so, in the fear that it would lead,
if known, to some objection or estrangement. Suppose
she married incautiously — it is not improbable, for her
existence has been a lonely and monotonous one for
many years — and the man turned out a ruffian, she
would be anxious to screen him, and yet would revolt
from his crimes. This might be. It bears strongly on
the whole drift of her discourse yesterday, and would
quite explain her conduct. Do you suppose Barnaby
is privy to these circumstances ? "
" Quite impossible to say, sir," returned the locksmith,
shaking his head again : " and next to impossible to find
out from him. If what you suppose is really the case, I
tremble for the lad — a notable person, sir, to put to bad
uses " —
" It is not possible, Varden," said Mr. Haredale, in a
still lower tone of voice than he had spoken yet, " that
we have been blinded and deceived by this woman from
the beginning? It is not possible that this connection
was formed in her husband's lifetime, and led to his and
my brother's "
" Good God, sir," cried Gabriel, interrupting him,
" don't entertain such dark thoughts for a moment
Five-and-twenty years ago, where was there a girl like
her ? A gay, handsome, laughing, bright-eyed damsel 1
Think what she was, sir. It makes my heart ache now,
even now, though I'm an old man, with a woman for a
daughter, to think what she was and what she is. We
all change, but that's with Time; Time does his work
honestly, and I don't mind him. A fig for Time, sir.
Use him well, and he's a hearty fellow, and scorns to
have you at a disadvantage. But care and suffering
(and those have changed her) are devils, sir — secret,
BARNABY RUDGE.
297
stealthy, undermining devils — who tread down the
brightest flowers in Eden, and do more havoc in a
month than Time does in a year. Picture to yourselt
for one minute what Mary was before they went to work
with her fresh heart and face — do her that justice —
and say whether such a thing is possible."
." You're a good fellow, Varden," said Mr. Haredale,
" and are quite right. I have brooded on that subject so
long, that every breath of suspicion carries me back to
it. You are quite right."
. " It isn't, sir," cried the locksmith with brightened
eyes, and sturdy, honest voice; " it isn't because I
tourted her before Rudge, and failed, that I say she
was too good for him. She would have been as much
too good for me. But she was too good for him j he
wasn't free and frank enough for her. I don't reproach
his memory with it, poor fellow ; I only want to put her
before you as she really was. For myself, I'll keep her
old picture in my mind; and thinking of that, and what
has altered her, 1!11 stand her friend, and try to win her
back to peace. And damme, sir," cried Gabriel, " with
your pardon for the word, I'd do the same if she had
married fifty highwaymen in a twelvemonth; and think
it in the Protestant Manual too, though Martha said it
wasn't, tooth and nail, till doomsday ! "
If the dark little parlor had been filled with a dense
fog, which, clearing away in an instant, left it all ra-
diance and brightness, it could not have been more sud-
denly cheered than by this outbreak on the part of the
hearty locksmith. In a voice nearly as full and round
ts his own, Mr. Haredale cried " Well said ! " and bade
bim come away; without more parley. The locksmith
complied right willingly ; and both getting into a hack-
298
UARNABY RUDGE.
ney-eoach which was waiting at the door, drove off
straightway. '
They alighted at the street-corner, and dismissing
their conveyance, walked to the house. To their first
knock at the door there was no response. A second met
with the like result.1 But in answer to the third, which
was of a more vigorous kind, the parlor window-sash
was gently raised, and a musical voice cried: —
" Haredale, my dear fellow, I am extremely glad to
see you. How very much you have improved in your
appearance since our last meeting! I never saw you
looking better. How do you do?" *
Mr. Haredale turned his eyes towards the casement
whence the voice proceeded, though there was no need
to do so, to recognize the speaker, and Mr. Chester
waved his hand, and smiled a courteous welcome.
" The door will be opened immediately," he said.
" There is nobody but a very dilapidated female to per-
form such offices. You will excuse her infirmities? If
she were in a more elevated station of society, she
would be gouty. Being but a hewer of wood and draw-
er of water, she is rheumatic. My dear Haredale,
these are natural class distinctions, depend upon it." 1
Mr. Haredale, whose face resumed its lowering and
distrustful look the moment he heard the voice, inclined
his head stiffly, and turned his back upon the speaker-
" Not opened yet! " said Mr. Chester. " Dear me!
I hope the aged soul has not eaught her foot in some un-
lucky cobweb by the way. She is there at last! Come
in, I beg!" ■'
Mr. Haredale entered, followed by the locksmith.
Turning with a look of great astonishment to tbe old
woman who had opened the door, he inquired for Mrs.
BARNABY BUDGE.
29$
Budge — for Barnaby. They were botli gone, she re-
plied, wagging her ancient head, for good. There was a
gentleman in the parlor, who perhaps could tell them
more. That was all she knew. , ,
" Pray, sir," said Mr. Haredale, presenting himself
before this new tenant, " where is the person whom I
came here to see ? " 1
" My dear friend," he returned, " I have not the least
idea." <| - ,
* Your trifling is ill-timed," retorted the other in a
suppressed tone and voice, " and its subject ill-chosen.
Reserve it for those who are your friends, and do not
expend it on me. I lay no claim to the distinction, and
have the self-denial to reject it" ,
" My dear, good sir," said Mr. Chester, " you are
heated with walking. Sit down, I beg. Our friend
is"*«. .
" Is but a plain honest man," returned Mr. Haredale,
" and quite unworthy of your notice."
" Gabriel Varden by name, sir," said the locksmith,
bluntly. t . , .1 i
" A worthy English yeoman !" said Mr. Chester.
"A most worthy yeoman, of whom I have frequently
heard my son Ned — darling fellow — speak, and have
often wished to see. Varden, my good friend, I am
glad to know you. You wonder now," he s«id, turning
languidly to Mr. Haredale, " to see me here. Now, I
am sure you do."
Mr. Haredale glanced at him — not fondly or adinir-
ingly — smiled, and held his peace.
" The mystery is solved in a moment," said Mr. Ches-
ter; "in a moment. Will you step aside with me one
nstant. You remember our little compact in reference
300
BAKNABY KUDUE.
to Ned, and your dear niece, Haredale ? You remem-
ber the list of assistants in their innocent intrigue?
You remember these two people being among them?
My dear fellow, congratulate yourself, and me. I hare
bought them off."
" You have done what? " said Mr. Haredale.
" Bought them off," returned his smiling friend. " I
have found it necessary to take some active steps tow-
ards setting this boy and girl attachment quite at rest,
and have begun by removing these two agents. .You
are surprised ? Who can withstand the influence of a
little money. They wanted it, and have been bought
off. We have nothing more to fear from them. They
are gone." .J s -
" Gone!" echoed Mr. Haredale. " Where ? "
"My dear fellow — and you must permit me to say
again, that you never looked so young; so positively
boyish as you do to-night — the Lord knows where; I
believe Columbus himself wouldn't find them. Between
you and me they have their hidden reasons, but upon
that point I have pledged myself to secrecy. She ap-
pointed to see you here to-night I know, but found it
inconvenient, and couldn't wait. Here is the key of
the door. I am afraid you'll'find it inconveniently
large; hut as the tenement is yours, your good-nature
will excuse that, Haredale, I am certain !
BARNABY RUDGE.
301
CHAPTER XXVII.
Mb. Haredale stood in the widow's parlor with the
door-key in his hand, gazing by turns at Mr. Chester
and at Gabriel Varden, and occasionally glancing down-
ward at the key as in the hope that of its own accord it
would unlock the mystery; until Mr. Chester, putting
on his hat and gloves, and sweetly inquiring whether
they were walking in the same direction, recalled him to
himself.
" No," he said. " Our roads diverge — widely, as you
know. For the present, I shall remain here."
" You will be hipped, Haredale ; you will be miser-
able, melancholy, utterly wretched," returned the other.
" It's a place of the very last description for a man of
your temper. I know it will make you very miserable."
" Let it," said Mr. Haredale, sitting down; " and
thrive upon the thought. Good-night! "
Feigning to be wholly unconscious of the abrupt wave
of the hand which rendered this farewell tantamount to
a dismissal, Mr. Chester retorted with a bland and heart-
felt benediction, and inquired of Gabriel in what direc-
tion he was going.
" Yours, sir, would be too much honor for the like of
me," replied the locksmith, hesitating.
" I wish you to remain here a little while, Varden,"
said Mr. Haredale, without looking towards them. " I
have a word or two to say to you."
302
BARNABY RUDGE.
" I will not intrude upon your conference another mo-
ment," said Mr. Chester with inconceivable politeness.
' May it be satisfactory to you both ! God bless you!"
So saying, and bestowing upon the locksmith a most re-
fulgent smile, he left them.
"A deplorably constituted creature, that rugged person,"
he said, as he walked along the street; " he is an atrocity
that carries its own punishment along with it — a bear
that gnaws himself. And here is one of the inestimable
advantages of having a perfect command over one's in-
clinations. I have been tempted in these two short in-
terviews, to draw upon that fellow fifty times. Five
men in six would have yielded to the impulse. By sup-
pressing mine, I wound him deeper and more keenly
than if I were the best swordsman in all Europe, and
he the worst. You are the wise man's very last re-
source," he said, tapping the hilt of his weapon j " we
can but appeal to you when all else is said and done.
To come to you before, and thereby spare our adver-
saries so much, is a barbarian mode of warfare, quite
unworthy any man with the remotest pretensions to deli-
cacy of feeling, or refinement."
He smiled so very pleasantly as he communed with
himself after this manner, that a beggar was emboldened
to follow him for alms, and to dog bis footsteps for some
distance* He was gratified by the circumstance, feeling
it complimentary to his power of feature, and as a re-
ward suffered the' man to follow him until he called a
chair, when he graciously dismissed him with a fervent
blessing.
u Which is as easy as cursing," he wisely added, as he
took his seat, " and more becoming to the foce. — To
Clerkenwell, my good creatures, if you please ! " The
BABNABY BUDGE.
303
chairmen were rendered quite vivacious by having such
a courteous burden, and to Clerkenwell they went at a
fair round trot.
Alighting at a certain point he had indicated to them
upon the road, and paying them something less than
they had expected from a fare of such gentle speech, he
turned into the street in which the locksmith dwelt, and
presently stood beneath the shadow of the Golden Key.
Mi-. Tappertit, who was hard at work by lamp-light, in a
eorner of' the workshop, remained unconscious of his
presence until a hand upon his shoulder made him start
and turn his head. !
" Industry," said Mr. Chester, " is the soul of business,
and the key-stone of prosperity. Mr. Tappertit, I shall
expect you to invite me to dinner when you are Lord
Mayor of London."
" Sir," returned the 'prentice, laying down his ham-
mer, and rubbing his nose on the back of a very sooty
hand, "I scorn the Lord Mayor and everything that
belongs to him. We must have another state of society,
sir, before you catch me being Lord Mayor. How de
do, sir ? " ( • >
" The better, Mr. Tappertit, for looking into your in-
genuous face once more. I hope you are well."
"I am as well, sir," said Sim, standing up to get
nearer to his ear, and whispering hoarsely, " as any man
can be under the aggrawations to which I am exposed.
My life's a burden to me. If it wasn't for wengeance,
I'd play at pitch and toss with it on the losing hazard."
" Is Mrs. Yarden at home ? " said Mr. Chester.
" Sir," returned Sim, eying him over with a look of
concentrated expression, — " she is. Did you wish to
see her?" <
804
BARNABY RUDGE.
Mr. Chester nodded.
" Then come this way, sir," said Sim, wiping his face
jpon his apron. " Follow me, sir. — Would you permit
me to whisper in your ear, one half a second ? "
" By all means."
Mr. Tappertit raised himself on tiptoe, applied his
lips to Mr. Chester's ear, drew back his head without
saying anything, looked hard at him, applied them to his
ear again, again drew back, and finally whispered-'-
" The name is Joseph Willet. Hush 1 I say no
more."
Having said that much, he beckoned the visitor with a
mysterious aspect to follow him to the parlor-door, where
he announced him in the voice of a gentleman-usher.
"Mr. Chester."
" And not Mr. Ed'dard, mind," said Sim, looking into
the door again, and adding this by way of postscript in
his own person ; u it's his father." •'
" But do not let his father," said Mr. Chester, advan-
cing hat in hand, as he observed the effect of this last ex-
planatory announcement, " do not let his father be any
check or restraint on your domestic occupations, Miss
Varden." • I
" Oh ! Now ! There! A'n't I always a-saying it!"
exclaimed Miggs, clapping her hands. " If he a'n't
been and took Missis for her own daughter. Well, she
do look like it, that she do. Ony think of that, mim ! "
* Is it possible," said Mr. Chester in his softest tones
" that this is Mrs. Varden ! I am amazed. That is not
your daughter, Mrs. Varden ? No, no. Your sister."
" My daughter, indeed, sir,'' returned Mrs. V. blush-
tng with great juvenility, t . . I • . 3
" Ah, Mrs. Varden ! " cried the visitor " Ah, ma'am
BARNABY BUDGE.
305
— humanity is indeed a happy lot, when we can repeat
ourselves in others, and still be young as they. You
must allow me to salute you — the custom of the coun-
try, my dear madam —r your daughter too." ■>
Dolly showed some reluctance to perform this cere-
tnony, but was sharply reproved by Mrs. Varden, who
insisted on her undergoing it that minute. 'For pride,
she said with great severity, was one of the seven deadly
sins, and humility -and lowliness of heart were virtues.
Wherefore she desired that Dolly would be kissed im-
mediately, on pain of her just displeasure; at the same
time giving her to understand that whatever she saw her
mother do, she might safely do herself, without being at
the trouble of any reasoning or reflection on the subject
— which, indeed, was offensive and undutiful, and in
direct contravention of the church catechism.
Thus admonished, Dolly complied, though by no
means willingly; for there was a broad, bold look of
admiration in Mr. Chester's face, refined and polished
though it sought to be, which distressed her very much.
As she stood with downcast eyes, not liking to look up
and meet his, he gazed upon her with an approving air,
and then turned to her mother.
" My friend Gabriel (whose acquaintance I only made
his very evening) should be a happy man, Mrs. Var-
len." .• i
" Ah 1" sighed Mrs. V., shaking her head. n ■
4 "Ah!" echoed Miggs. ••• t •
11"Is that the case?" said Mr. Chester, compassionately.
* Dear me!" « . ( —
—"Master has no intentions, sir," murmured Miggs as
she sidled up to him, " but to be as grateful as his natur"
will let him, for every think he owns which it is in his
voi- i. 29
306
BARKTABY BUDGE.
powers to appreciate. But we never, sir,"--— said Miggs.
looking sideways at Mrs. Varden, and ii.terlarding her
discourse with a sigh — " we never know the ftiU value
of some wines and fig-trees till we lose 'em. So much
the worse, sir, for them as has the slighting of 'em on
their consciences when they're gone to be in full blow
elsewhere." And Miss Miggs cast up her eyes to signify
where that might be. » i
As Mrs. Varden distinctly heard, and was intended to
hear, all that Miggs said, and as these words appeared
to convey in metaphorical terms a presage or foreboding
that she would at some early period droop beneath her
trials and take an easy flight towards the stars, she ins-
mediately began to languish, and taking a volume of the
Manual from a neighboring table, leant her arm upon it
as though 6he were Hope and that her Anchor. Mr.
Chester perceiving this, and seeing how the volume was
lettered on the back, took it gently from her hand, and
turned the fluttering leaves. \ , %% \ t >
"My favorite book, dear madam. How often, how
very often in his early life— before he can remember''
— (this clause was strictly true) f have I deduced little
easy moral lessons from its pages, for my dear son Ned
You know Ned?" i. a - < < •» ^ b
Mrs. Varden had that honor, and a fine affable young
gentleman he was.
" You're a mother, Mrs. Varden," said Mr. Chester,
taking a pinch of snuff, " and you know what I, as a
father, feel, when he is praised. He gives me some un-
easiness — much uneasiness — he's of a roving natnre,
■ ma'am from flower to flower— from sweet to sweet —
but his is the butterfly time of life, and we must not be
hard upon such trifling." . t' '
BARNABY BUDGE.
307
He glanced at Dolly. She was attending evidently
to what he said. Just what he desired! '
" The only thing I object to in this little trait of Ned's,
is," said Mr. Chester, "'—and the mention of his name
reminds me, by the way, that I am about to beg the
favor of a minute'6 talk with you alone — the only thing
I object to in it, is, that it does partake of insincerity.
Now, however I may attempt to disguise the fact from
myself in my affection for Ned, still I always revert to
this — that if we are not sincere, we are nothing. Noth-
ing upon earth. Let us be sincere, my dear madam
— " and Protestant," murmured Mrs. Varden.
—" and Protestant above all things. Let us be sin-
cere and Protestant, strictly moral, strictly just (though
always with a leaning towards mercy), strictly honest,
and strictly true, and we gain — it is a slight point, cer-
tainly, but still it is something tangible ; we throw up a
groundwork and foundation, so to speak, of goodness, on
which we may afterwards erect some worthy superstrue-
ture." • i 1 • • -' i , .
Nowy to be sure, Mrs. Varden thought, here is a per-
feet character. Here is a meek, righteous, thorough-
going Christian, who, having mastered all these qualities,
so difficult of attainment; who, having dropped a pinch
of salt on the tails of all the cardinal virtues, and caught
them every one; makes light of their possession, and
pants for more morality. For the good woman never
doubted (as many good men and women never do), that
this slighting kind of profession, this setting so little store
by great matters, this seeming to say " I am not proud,
I am what you hear, but I consider myself no better
than other people ; let us change the subject, pray " —
was perfectly genuine and true. He so contrived it, and
808
BAENABY BODGE.
said it in. that way that it appeared to have been forced
from him, and its effect was marvellous.
. Aware of the impression he had made -m few men
were quicker than he at such discoveries — Mr. Chester
followed up the blow by propounding certain virtuous
maxims, somewhat vague and general in their nature,
doubtless, and occasionally partaking of the character of
truisms, worn a little out at elbow, but delivered in so
charming a voice and with such uncommon serenity and
peace of mind, that they answered as well as the best.
Nor is this to be wondered at; for as hollow vessels
produce a far more musical sound in falling than those
which are substantial, so it will oftentimes be found that
sentiments which have nothing in them make the loudest
ringing in the world, and are the most relished. - . .
Mr. Chester, with the volume gently extended in one
hand, and with the other planted lightly on his breast,
talked to them in the most delicious manner possible;
and quite enchanted all his hearers, notwithstanding their
conflicting interests and thoughts. Even Dolly, who, be-
twixt his keen regards and her eying over by Mr. Tap-
pertit, was put quite out of countenance, could not help
owning within herself that he was the sweetest-spoken
gentleman she had ever seen. Even Miss Miggs, who
was divided between admiration of Mr. Chester and a
mortal jealousy of her young mistress, had sufficient lei-
sure to be propitiated. Even Mr. Tappertit, though
occupied as we have seen in gazing at his heart's delight,
could not wholly divert his thoughts from the voice of
the other charmer. Mrs. Yarden, to her own private
thinking, had never been so improved in all her life:
and when Mr. Chester, rising and craving permission to
speak with her apart, took her by the hand and led her
BARNA8Y RUDGE.
309
at arm's length up-stairs to the best sitting-room, she
almost deemed him something more than human.
" Dear madam," he said, pressing her hand delicately
to his lips ; " be seated."
Mrs. Varden called up quite a courtly air, and became
seated. • t
"You guess my object ? " said Mr. Chester, drawing a
chair towards her: " You divine my purpose ? I am an
affectionate parent, my dear Mrs. Varden." t
* That I am sure you are, sir," said Mrs. V.
" Thank you," returned Mr. Chester, tapping his snuff-
box lid. " Heavy moral responsibilities rest with parents,
Mrs. Varden."
Mrs. Varden slightly raised her hands, shook her head,
and looked stt the ground as though she saw straight
through the globe, out at the other end, and into the
immensity of space beyond.
" I may confide in you," said Mr. Chester, u without
reserve. I love my son, ma'am, dearly ; and loving him
as I do, I would save him from working certain misery.
You know of his attachment to Miss Haredale. You
have abetted him in it, and very kind of you it was
to do so. I am deeply obliged to you — most deeply
obliged to you — for your interest in his behalf; but,
my dear ma'am, it is a mistaken one, I do assure
you." : 4
Mrs. Varden stammered that she was sorry —
" Sorry, my dear ma'am," he interposed. " Never be
sorry for what is so very amiable, so very good in inten
tion, so perfectly like yourself. But there are grave and
weighty reasons, pressing family considerations, and apart
even from these, points of religious difference, which in-
terpose themselves, and render their union impossible 5
310
BARNABY RUDGE.
utterly im-possible. I should have mentioned these cir-
cumstances to your husband; but he has — you will ex-
cuse my saying this so freely — he has not your quick-
ness of apprehension or depth of moral sense. What an
extremely airy house this is, and how beautifully kept!
For one like myself — a widower so long—these tokens
of female care and superintendence have inexpressible
charms."
Mrs. Varden began to think (she scarcely knew why)
that the young Mr. Chester must be in the wrong, and
the old Mr. Chester must be in the right.
" My son Ned," resumed her tempter with his most
winning air, " has had, I am told, your lovely daughter's
aid, and your open-hearted husband's."
— "Much more than mine, sir," said Mrs. Varden;
" a great deal more. I have often had my doubts. It's
a" —
" A bad example," suggested Mr. Chester. " It is. No
doubt it is. Your daughter is at that age when to set
before her an encouragement for young persons to rebel
against their parents on this most important point, is par-
ticularly injudicious. You are quite right. I ought to
have thought of that myself, but it escaped me, I confess
— so far superior are your sex to ours, dear madam, in
point of penetration and sagacity."
Mrs. Varden looked as wise as if she had really said
something to deserve this compliment — firmly believed
she had, in short — and her faith in her own shrewdness
increased considerably.
" My dear ma'am," said Mr. Chester, " you embolden
me to be plain with you. My son and I are at variance
on this point. The young lady and her natural guar-
dian differ upon it, also. And the closing point is, that
BARNABY RUDGE.
311
my son is bound, by his duty to me, by his honor, by
every solemn tie and obligation, to marry some one else."
, " Engaged to marry another lady !" quoth Mrs. Yar-
den, holding up her hands.
•" My dear madam, brought up, educated, and trained,
expressly for that purpose. Expressly for that pur-
pose. — Miss Haredale, I am told, is a very charming
creature."
" I am her foster-mother, and should know — the best
young lady in the world," said Mrs. Varden.
" I have not the smallest doubt of it. I am sure she
is. And you, who have stood in that tender relation
towards her, are bound to consult her happiness. Now,
can I — as I have said to Haredale, who quite agrees
can I possibly stand by, and suffer her to throw herself
away (although she is of a catholic family), upon a
young fellow who, as yet, has no heart at all ? It is
no imputation upon him to say he has not, because
young men who have plunged deeply into the frivoli-
ties and conventionalities of society, very seldom have.
Their hearts never grow, my dear ma'am, till after thirty.
I don't believe, no, I do not believe, that I had any heart
myself when I was Ned's age."
" Oh, sir," said Mrs. Varden, " I think you must have
had. It's impossible that you, who have so much now,
can ever have been without any."
" I hope," he answered, shrugging his shoulders meek-
ly, "I have a little; I hope, a very little — Heaven
knows ! But to return to Ned; I have no doubt you
thought, and therefore interfered benevolently in his
behalf, that I objected to Miss Haredale. How very
natural! My dear madam, I object to him — to him
— emphatically to Ned himself."
312
BAKNABY BUDGE.
Mrs. Varden was perfectly aghast at the disclosure.
" He has, if he honorably fulfils this solemn obligation
of which I have told you — and he must be honorable,
dear Mrs. Varden, or he is no son of mine —a fortune
within his reach. He is of most expensive, ruinously ex-
pensive habits; and if, in a moment of caprice and wil-
fulness, he were to marry this young lady, and so de-
prive himself of the means of gratifying the tastes to
which he has been so long accustomed, he would — my
dear madam, he would break the gentle creature's heart.
Mrs. Varden, my good lady, my dear soul, I put it to you
—is such a sacrifice to be endured ? Is the female heart
a thing to be trifled with in this way ? Ask your own,
my dear madam. Ask your own, I beseech you."
"Truly," thought Mrs. Varden, "this gentleman is a
saint. But," she added aloud, and not unnaturally, " if
you take Miss Emma's lover away, sir, what becomes of
the poor thing's heart, then ? "
" The very point," said Mr. Chester, not at all abashed,
" to which I wished to lead you. A marriage with my
son, whom I should be compelled to disown, would be
followed by years of misery; they would be separated,
my dear inadam, in a twelvemonth. To break off this
attachment, which is more fancied than real, as you and
I know very well, will cost the dear girl but a few tears,
and she is happy again. Take the case of your own
daughter, the young lady down-stairs, who is your breath-
iug image"—Mrs. Varden coughed and simpered —
" there is a young man, (I am sorry to say, a dissolute
fellow, of very indifferent character,) of whom I have
heard Ned speak — Bullet was it—Pullet — Mullet" —
" There is a young man of the name of Joseph Wil-
let, sir," said Mrs. Varden, folding her hands loftily.
BAJRNABY RUDGB.
3l3
" That's he," cried Mr. Chester. " Suppose this Jo-
ieph Wiilet now, were to aspire to the affections of your
charming daughter, and were to engage them."
" It would be like his impudence," interposed Mrs.
Varden, bridling, "to dare to think of such a thing!"
" My dear madam, that's the whole case. I know it
would be like his impudence. 'It is like Ned's impu-
dence to do as he has done; but you would not on that
account, or because of a few tears from your beautiful
daughter, refrain from checking their inclinations in their
birth. I meant to have reasoned thus with your husband
when I saw him at Mrs. Rudge's this evening " — '
"My husband," said Mrs. Yarden, interposing with
emotion, " would be a great deal better at home than go-
ing to Mrs. Rudge's so often. I don't know what he
does there. I don't see what occasion he has to busy
himself in her affairs at all, sir."
" If I don't appear to express my concurrence in those
last sentiments of yours," returned Mr. Chester, " quite
so strongly as you might desire, it is because his being
there, my dear madam, and not proving conversational,
led me hither, and procured me the happiness of this
interview with one, in whom the whole management,
conduct, and prosperity of her family are centred, I
perceive."
With that he took Mrs. Varden's hand again, and hav-
ing pressed it to his lips with the high-flown gallantry of
the day — a little burlesqued to render it the more strik
ing in the good lady's unaccustomed eyes — proceeded in
the same strain of mingled sophistry, cajolery, and flat-
tery to entreat that her utmost influence might be ex-
erted to restrain her husband and daughter from any
further promotion of Edward's suit to Miss Haredale,
314
BARNABY BUDGE.
and from aiding or abetting either party in any way.
Mrs. Varden was but a woman, and had her share of van-
ity, obstinacy, and love of power. She entered into a secret
treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, with her in-
sinuating visitor; and really did believe, as many others
would have done who saw and heard him, that in so do
ing she furthered the ends of truth, justice, and morality,
in a very uncommon degree.
Overjoyed by the success of his negotiation, and
mightily amused within himself, Mr. Chester conducted
her down-stairs in the same state as before; and having
repeated the previous ceremony of salutation, which also
as before comprehended Dolly, took his leave ; first com-
pleting the conquest of Miss Miggs's heart, by inquiring
if " this young lady " would light him to the door.
" Oh, mim," said Miggs, returning with the candle
" Oh gracious me, mim, there's a gentleman! Was
there ever such an angel to talk as he is — and such
a sweet-looking man ! So upright and noble, that he
seems to despise the very ground he walks on; and yet
so mild and condescending, that he seems to say 4 but I
will take notice on it too.' And to think of his taking
you for Miss Dolly, and Miss Dolly for your sister —
Oh, my goodness me, if I was master wouldn't I be jeal-
ous of him ! "
Mrs. Varden reproved her handmaid for this vain-
speaking; but very gently and mildly— ]uite smilingly
indeed — remarking that she was a foolish, giddy, light-
headed girl, whose spirits carried her beyond all bounds,
and who didn't mean half she said, or she would be quite
angry with her.
"For my part," said Dolly, in a thoughtful manne*,
" I half believe Mr. Chester is something like Miggs it>
BARNABY RUDGE.
315
that respect. For all his politeness and pleasant speak-
ing, I am pretty sure he was making game of us, more
than once."
" If you venture to say such a thing again, and to
speak ill of people behind their backs in my presence,
Miss," said Mrs. Varden, " I shall insist upon your tak-
ing a candle and going to bed directly. How dare you,
Dolly ? I'm astonished at you. The rudeness of your
whole behavior this evening has been disgraceful. Did
anybody ever hear," cried the enraged matron bursting
into tears, " of a daughter telling her own mother she
has been made game of!"
What a very uncertain temper Mrs. Varden's was !
BARNABY RUDGE.
A TALE OF THE RIOTS OF 'EIGHTY.
VOLUME n.
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Repairing to a noted coffee-house in Covent Garden
when he left the locksmith's, Mr. Chester sat long over
a late dinner, entertaining himself exceedingly with the
whimsical recollection of his recent proceedings, and con-
gratulating himself very much on his great cleverness.
Influenced by these thoughts, his face wore an expres-
sion so benign and tranquil, that the waiter in immediate
attendance upon him felt he could almost have died in
his defence, and settled in his own mind (until the re-
ceipt of the bill, and a very small fee for very great
trouble, disabused it of the idea) that such an apostolic
customer was worth half a dozen of the ordinary run of
visitors, at least.
A visit to the gaming-table — not as a heated, anxious
venturer, but one whom it was quite a treat to see stak-
ing his two or three pieces in deference to the follies of
society, and smiling with equal benevolence on winners
and losers — made it late before he reached home. It
was his custom to bid his servant go to bed at his own
time unless he had orders to the contrary, and to leave
a candle on the common stair. There was a lamp on
the landing by which he could always light it when
6
BARNABY RUDGE.
he came home late, and having a key of the door about
him he could enter and go to bed at his pleasure.
He opened the glass of the dull lamp, whose wick,
burnt up and swollen like a drunkard's nose, came fly-
ing off in little carbuncles at the candle's touch, and
scattering hot sparks about rendered it'"matter of some
difficulty to kindle the lazy taper; when a noise, as of
a man snoring deeply some steps higher up, caused him
to pause and listen. It was the heavy breathing of a
sleeper, close at hand. Some fellow had lain down on
the open staircase, and was slumbering soundly. Hav*
ing lighted the candle at length and opened his own
door, he softly ascended, holding the taper high above
his head, and peering cautiously about; curious to see
what kind of man had chosen so comfortless a shelter
for his lodging.
With his head upon the landing and his great limbs
flung over half a dozen stairs, as carelessly as though
he were a dead man whom drunken bearers had thrown
down by chance, there lay Hugh, face uppermost, his
long hair drooping like some wild weed upon his wooden
pillow, and his huge chest heaving with the sounds which
so unwontedly disturbed the place and hour. He who
came upon him so unexpectedly was about to break his
rest by thrusting him with his foot, when, glancing at
his upturned face, he arrested himself in the very ac-
tion, and stooping down and shading the candle with
his hand, examined his features closely. Close as his
first inspection was, it did not suffice, for he passed
the light, still carefully shaded as before, across and
ncross his face, and yet observed him with a searching
eye.
While he was thus engaged, the sleeper, without any
BABNABY BUDGE.
7
starting or turning round, awoke. There was a kind of
fascination in meeting his steady gaze so suddenly, which
took from the other the presence of mind to withdraw his
eyes, and forced him, as it were, to meet his look. So
they remained staring at each other, until Mr. Chester
at last broke silence, and asked him in a low voice, why
he lay sleeping there. |.
" I thought," said Hugh, struggling into a sitting pos-
ture and gazing at him intently, still, " that you were a
part of my dream. It was a curious one. I hope s it
may never come true, master." , . , ,
" What makes you shiver ?," , j -
"The — the cold, I suppose," he growled as he
shook himself, and rose. " I hardly know where I am
y®k -. 1 'i >' " . r '
"Do you know me?" said Mr. Chester. , fu
" Ay. I know you," he answered. " I was dreaming
of you — we're not where I thought we were., That's a
comfort." , , ..if.
He looked round him as he spoke, and in particular
looked above his head, as though he half expected to
be standing under some object which had had exist-
enee in his dream. Then he rubbed his eyes and shook
himself again, and followed his conductor into bis own
rooms. , % ' • , . !
Mr. Chester lighted the candles which stood upon his
dressing-table, and wheeling an easy-chair towards the
fire, which was yet burning, stirred up a cheerful blaze,
sat down before it, and bade his uncouth visitor " Come
here," and draw his boots off.
" You have been drinking again, my fine fellow," he
said as Hugh went down on one knee, and did as he was
told. ' »
8
BARNABY RUDGE.
' " As I'm alive, master, I've walked the twelve long
miles, and waited here I don't know how long, and
had no drink between my lips since dinner-time at
noon." ' "
1 " And can you do nothing better, my pleasant friend,
than fall asleep, and shake the very building with your
snores? " said Mr. Chester. " Can't you dream in.your
straw at home, dull dog as you are, that you need come
here to do it ? — Reach me those slippers, and tread
softly." ' • " 1 " * '■
Hugh obeyed in silence. 1 ' ' _ '
" And harkee, my dear young gentleman," said Mr.
Chester, as he put them on, "the next time you dream,
don't let it be of me, but of some dog or horse with
whom you are better acquainted. Fill the glass once
— you'll find it and the bottle in the same place — and
empty it to keep yourself awake." ■ 1
$ Hugh obeyed again — even more zealously — and
having done so, presented himself before his patron.
" Now," said Mr. Chester, " what do you want with
me?" -5 •' '•
"There was news to-day," returned Hugh. "Your
son was at our house came down on horseback. He
tried to see the young woman, but couldn't get sight of
her. He left some letter or some message which our
Joe had charge of, but he and the old one quarrelled
about it when your son had gone, and the old one
wouldn't let it be delivered. He says (that's the old
one does) that none of his people shall interfere and
get him into trouble. He's a landlord he says, and
lives on everybody's custom."- ■' 11
He is a jewel," smiled Mr. Chester, " and the better
for being a dull one. — Well ? " '
BARNABY RUDGE.
9
" Yard en's daughter — that's the girl I kissed "—
— "and stole the bj-acelet from upon the king's high-
wayi" said Mr.' Chester, composedly. 44 Yes ; what of
her?" | t * ■ ■ * ' *' '
f She wrote a note at our house to the young woman,
saying she lost the letter I brought to you, and you
burnt. Our Joe was to carry it, but the old one kept
bim at home all next day, on purpose that he shouldn't.
Next morning 1 he gave it to me to take; and here it
is." i '■!.'< .i *' ■
44 You didn't deliver it then, my good friend ? " said
Mr. Chester, twirling Dolly's note between his finger
and thumb, and feigning to be surprised. '
" I supposed you'd want to have it," retorted Hugh.
"Bum one, burn all, I thought!* ■ • ' ■ - 1
"My devil-may-care acquaintance," said Mr. Chester
-r-u really if you do not draw some nicer distinctions,
your career will be cut short with most surpi-ising sud-
denness. Don't you know that the letter you brought
to me, was directed to my son who resides in this very
place ? And can you descry no difference between his
letters and those addressed to other people ? "
i ."If you don't want it," said Hugh, disconcerted by
this reproof, for he had expected high praise, " give it
me back, and I'll deliver it.- I don't know how to please
you, master." I • ■ ' i ' * -
-"J shall deliver it," returned his patron, putting it
away after a moment's consideration, " myself. Does
the young lady walk out, on fine mornings ? "
j 44 Mostly — about noon is her usual time."
"Alone?" 1 ''
i>" Yes, alone." -St ' • ■
"Where?"
10
BAKNABY BUDGE.
" In the grounds before the house. — Them that tho
footpath crosses." . 1 1 *
" If the weather should be fine, I may throw myself in
her way to-morrow, perhaps," said Mr. Chester, a3 coolly
as if she were one of his ordinary acquaintance. ♦Mr.
Hugh, if I should ride up to! the Maypole door, you will
do me the favor only to have seen me once. You must
suppress your gratitude, and endeavor to forget my for*
bearance in the matter of the bracelet. It » natural it.
should break out, and it does you honor; but when other
folks are by, you must, for your own sake and safety, be
as like your usual self as though you owed me no obliga*
tion whatever, and had never stood within these walls.
You comprehend me?" .
Hugh understood him perfectly. After a pause he
muttered that he hoped his patron would involve him in
no trouble about this last letter; for he had kept it back
solely with the view of pleasing him. He was continu-
ing in this strain, when Mr. Chester with a most benef-
icent and patronizing air cut him short by saying:—
"My good fellow, you have my promise, my word,
my sealed bond (for a verbal pledge with me is quite
as good), that I will always protect you so long as you
deserve it. Now, do set your mind at rest. Keep it at
ease, I beg of you. When a man puts himself in my
power so thoroughly as you have done, I really feel as
though he had a kind of claim upon me. I am more
disposed to mercy and forbearance under such circum-
stances than I can tell you, Hugh. Do look upon me as
your protector, and rest assured, I entreat you, that on
the subject of that indiscretion, you may preserve, as
long as you and 1 are friends, the lightest heart that
ever beat within a human breast. Fill that glass once
BARNABY RUDGE.
11
more to cheer you on your road homewards —I am
really quite ashamed to think how far you have to go —
and then God bless you for the night."
" They think," said Hugh, when he had tossed the
liquor down, " that I am sleeping soundly in the stable.
Ha, ha, ha ! The stable-door is shut, but the steed's gone,
master." "
" You are a most convivial fellow," returned his
friend, "and I love your humor of all things. Good-
night! Take the greatest possible care of yourself, for
my sake!"
It was remarkable that during the whole interview,
each had endeavored to catch stolen glances of the
other's face, and had never looked full at it. They
interchanged one brief and hasty glance as Hugh went
out, averted their eyes directly, and so separated. Hugh
closed the double doors behind him, carefully and without
noise ; and Mr. Chester remained in his easy-chair, with
his gaze intently fixed upon the fire.
" Well! " he said, after meditating for a long time —
and said with a deep sigh and an uneasy shifting of his
attitude, as though he dismissed some other subject from
his thoughts, and returned to that which had held posses-
sion of them all the day — " the plot thickens ; I have
thrown the shell; it will explode, I think, in eight-and-
forty hours, and should scatter these good folks amaz-
ingly. We shall see ! "
He went to bed and fell asleep, but had not slept long
when he started up and thought that Hugh was at the
outer door, calling in a strange voice, very different from
his own, to be admitted. The delusion was so strong
upon him, and was so full of that vague terror of the
night in which such visions have their being, that he
12
BARN'AUY BUDGE.
rose, and taking his sheathed sword in his hand, opened
the door, and looked out upon the staircase, and towards
the spot where Hugh had lain asleep; and even spoke
to him by name. But all was dark and quiet, and creep-
ing back to bed again, he fell, after an hour's uneasy
watching, into a second sleep, and woke no more till
morning.
BARNABY RUDGE.
13
■
. . . I , . • • • 1 • t
CHAPTER XXIX.
r . , ; . ' I • .......
i The thoughts of worldly men are forever regulated
by a moral law of gravitation, which, like the physical
one, holds them down to earth. The bright glory of day,
and the silent wonders of a starlit night, appeal to their
minds in vain. There are no signs in the sun, or in the
moon, or in the stars, for their reading. They are like
some wise men, who, learning to know each planet by its
Latin name, have quite forgotten such small heavenly
constellations as Charity, Forbearance, Universal Love,
and Mercy, although they shine by night and day so
brightly that the blind may see them ; and who, looking
upward at the spangled sky, see nothing there but the
reflection of their own great wisdom and book-learn-
ing- . .. »» ■ ■ •
It is curious to imagine these people of the world,
busy in thought, turning their eyes toward the countless
spheres that shine above us, and making them reflect the
only images;their minds contain. The man who lives
but in the breath of princes, has nothing in his sight but
stars for courtiers' breasts. The envious man beholds
his neighbors' honors even in the sky 5 to the money-
hoarder, and the mass of worldly folk, the whole great
universe above glitters with sterling eoin —fresh from
the mint — stamped with the sovereign's head coming
always between them and heaven, turn where they may.
So do the shadows of our own desires stand between
14
BARNABY RUDGE.
us and our better angels, and thus their brightness is
eclipsed.
Everything was fresh and gay, as though the world
were but that morning made, when Mr. Chester rode at
a tranquil pace along the Forest road. Though early in
the season, it was warm and genial weather; the trees
were budding into leaf, the hedges and the grass were
green, the air was musical with songs of birds, and high
above them all the lark poured out her richest melody.
In shady spots, the morning dew sparkled on each young
leaf and blade of grass; and where the sun was shining,
some diamond drops yet glistened brightly, as in unwill-
ingness to leave so fair a world, and have such brief
existence. Even the light wind, whose rustling was as
gentle to the ear as softly falling water, had its hope and
promise; and, leaving a pleasant fragrance in its traek
as it went fluttering by, whispered of its intercourse with
Summer, and of his happy coming.
The solitary rider went glancing on among the trees,
from sunlight into shade and back again, at the same
even pace — looking about him, certainly, from time to
time, but with no greater thought of the day or the
scene through which he moved, than that he was for-
tunate (being choicely dressed) to have such favorable
weather. He smiled very complacently at such times,
but rather as if he were satisfied with himself than with
anything else: and so went riding on, upon his chestnut
cob, as pleasant to look upon as his own horse, and prob-
ably far less sensitive to the many cheerful influences by
which he was surrounded. ' f t
In course of time, the Maypole's massive chimneys
lose upon his view: but he quickened not his pace one
jot, and with the same cool gravity rode up to the tavern
BARNABY RUDGE.
15
porch. John Willet, who was toasting his red face be-
fore a great fire in the bar, and who, with surpassing
foresight and quickness of apprehension, had been think-
ing, as he looked at the blue sky> that if that state of
things lasted much longer, it might ultimately become
necessary to leave off fires and throw the windows open,
issued forth to hold his stirrup ; calling lustily for Hugh.
• f Oh, you're here, are you, sir ? " 6aid John rather
surprised by the quickness with which he appeared.
"Take this here valuable animal into the stable, and
have more than particular care of him if you want to
keep your place. A mortal lazy fellow, sir ; he needs a
deal of looking after." 1
" But you have a son," returned Mr. Chester, giving
his bridle to Hugh as he dismounted, and acknowledging
his salute by a careless motion of his hand towards his
hat. " Why don't you make him useful ? "
" Why, the truth is, sir," replied John with great im-
portance, " that my son — what, you're a-listening are
you, villain ? "
"Who's listening?" returned Hugh angrily. "A
treat, indeed, to hear you speak! Would you have me
take him in till he's cool?"
" Walk him up and down farther off then, sir," cried
old John, " and when you see me and a noble gentleman
entertaining ourselves with talk, keep your distance. If
you don't know your distance, sir," added Mr. Willet,
after an enormously long pause, during which he fixed
his great dull eyes on Hugh, and waited with exemplary
patience for any little property in the way of ideas that
might be coming to him, "we'll find a way to teach you,
pretty soon."
Hugh shrugged his shoulders scornfully,; and in his
BARNABY BUDGE.
reckless swaggering way, crossed to the other side of
the little green, and there, with the bridle slung loosely
over his shoulder, led the horse to and fro, glancing at
his master every now and then from under his bushy
eyebrows, with as siaister an aspect as one would desire
to see. ,• . i . - : •
Mr. Chester, who, without appearing to do so, had
eyed him attentively during this brief dispute, stepped
into the porch, and turning abruptly to Mr. Willet,
said,-H- '1 '
" You keep strange servants, John."
" Strange enough to look at, sir, certainly " answered
the host; " but out of doors; for horses, dogs, and the
like of that \ there a'n't a better man in England than is
that Maypole Hugh yonder. He a'n't fit for in-doorS,"
added Mr. Willet, with the confidential air of a man
who felt his own superior nature, " I do that; but if that
chap had only a little imagination, sir " — <'
" He's an active fellow now, J dare swear," said Mr,
Chester, in a musing tone, which seemed to suggest that
he would have said the same had there been nobody to
hear him.,,, J ' ,
" Active, sir!" retorted John, with quite an expres-
sion in his face ; " that chap ! Hallo there I You, sir!
Bring that horse here, and go and hang my wig on the
weathercock, to show this gentleman whether you're one
of the lively sort or not." t:\- l ■ -* * ■»
Hugh made no answer, but throwing the bridle to his
master, and snatching his wig from his head, in a man-
ner so unceremonious and hasty that the action discom-
posed Mr. Willet not a little, though performed at his
own special desire, climbed nimbly to the very summit
of the maypole before the house, and hanging the wig
BAKNABY KUDGE.
17
upon the weathercock, sent it twirling round like a roast-
ing jack. Having achieved this performance, he cast it
on the ground, and sliding down the pole with inconceiv-
able rapidity, alighted on his feet almost as soon as it
had touched the earth. ' , I
" There, sir," said John, relapsing into his usual stolid
6tate, "you won't see that at many houses, besides the
Maypole, where there's good accommodation for man
and beast — nor that neither, though that with , him is
nothing." , , - . , ,!, f ■ ,j • J |.| /*
This last remark bore reference to his vaulting on
horseback, as upon Mr. Chester's 6rst visit, and quickly
disappearing by the stable-gate.
" That with him is nothing," repeated Mr. Willet,
brushing his wig with his wrist, and inwardly resolving
to distribute-a small charge for dust and damage to that
article of dress, through the various items of his guest's
bill; "he'll get out of a'most any winder in the house-
There never was such a chap .for flinging himself about
and never hurting his bones. It's my opinion, sir, that
it's pretty nearly all owing to his not having any imagi-
nation ; and that if imagination could be (which it can't)
knocked into him, he'd never be able to do it any more.
But we was a-talking, sir, about my son."
" True, Willet, true," t said his visitor, turning again
towards the landlord with his accustomed serenity of
face. "My good friend, what about him?" . , v-lf
It has been reported that Mr. Willet, previously to
making answer, winked. But as lie never was known
to be guilty of such lightness of conduct either before or
afterwards, this may be looked upon as a malicious in-
vention of his enemies —founded, perhaps, upon the
undisputed circumstance of his taking his guest by the
vol. u. *
18
BARN A BY RUDGE.
third breast button of his coat, counting downwards from
the chin, and pouring his reply into his ear :■—
"Sir," whispered John, with dignity, "I know my
duty. We want no love-making here, sir, unbeknown
to parents. I respect a certain young gentleman, taking
him in the light of a young gentleman ; I respect a cer-
tain young lady, taking her in the light of a young lady;
hut of the two as a couple, I have no knowledge, sir,
none whatever. My son, sir, is upon his patrole."
" I thought I saw him looking through the corner win-
dow hut this moment," said Mr. Chester, who naturally
thought that being on patrole, implied walking about
somewhere.
" No doubt you did, sir," returned John. * " He is
upon his patrole of honor, sir, not to leave the premises.
Me and some friends of mine that use the Maypole of an
evening, sir, considered what was best to be done with
him, to prevent his doing anything unpleasant in oppos-
ing your desires; and we've put him on his patrole.
And what's more, sir, he won't be off his patrole for a
pretty long time to come, 1 can tell you that."
When he had communicated this bright idea, which
had had its origin in the perusal by the village cronies
of a newspaper, containing among other matters, an
account of how some officer pending the Sentence of
some court-martial had been enlarged on jsarofe,' Mr.
Willet drew back from his guest's ear, and without any
visible alteration of feature, chuckled thrice audibly.
This nearest approach to a laugh in which he ever in-
dulged (and that but seldom and only on extreme occa-
gions), never even curled his lip or effected the smallest
change in-—no, not so much as a slight wagging of—
his great, fat, double chin, which at these times, as at all
BARNABY RUDGE.
19
others, remained a perfect desert in the broad map of hia
face ; one changeless, dull, tremendous blank.
Lest it should be matter of surprise to any, that Mr.
Willet adopted this bold course in opposition to one
whom he had often entertained, and who had always
paid his way at the Maypole gallantly, it may be re-
marked that it was his very penetration and sagacity in
this respect, which occasioned him to indulge in those
unusual demonstrations of jocularity, just now recorded.
For Mr. Willet, after carefully balancing father and son
in his mental scale?, had arrived at the distinct conclu-
sion that the old gentleman was a better sort of customer
than the young one. Throwing his landlord into the
same scale, which was already turned by this considera-
tion, and heaping upon him again, his strong desires to
run counter to the unfortunate Joe, and his opposition as
a general principle to all matters of love and matrimony,
it went down to the very ground straightway, and sent
the light cause of the younger gentleman flying upwards
to the ceiling. Mr. Chester was not the kind of man to
be by any means dimsighted to Mr. Willet's motives,
but he thanked him as graciously as if he had been one
of the most disinterested martyrs that ever shone on
earth ; and leaving him with many complimentary re-
liances on his great taste and judgment, to prepare what-
ever dinner he might deem most fitting the occasion, bent
his steps towards the Warren. , , , .. ,.i
Dressed with more than his usual elegance; assuming
a gracefulness of manner, which, though it was the re-
suit of long study, sat easily upon him and became him
well; composing his features into their most serene and
prepossessing expression ; and setting in short that
guard upon himself, at every point, which denoted that
20
BARNABY RUDGE.
he attached no slight importance to the impression he
was about to make ; he entered the bounds of Miss
Hnredale's usual walk. He had not gone far, or looked
about him long, when he descried coming towards him, a
female figure. A glimpse of the form and dress as she
crossed a little wooden bridge which lay between them,
satisfied him that he had found her whom he desired to
see. He threw himself in her way, and a very few
paces brought them close together. ' ' '
' He raised his hat from his head, and yielding the path,
suffered her to pass him. Then, as if the idea had but
that moment occurred to him, he turned hastily back
and said in an agitated voice:- '
u I beg pardon — do I address Miss Haredale ? "
She stopped in some confusion at being so unexpect-
odly accosted by a stranger; and answered " Yes."
"Something told me," he said, looking a compliment
to her beauty, " that it could be no other. 1 Miss Hare-
dale, I bear a name which is not unknown to you —
which it is a pride, and yet a pain to me to know, sounds
pleasantly in your ears. I am a man advanced in life,
as you see. I am the father of him whom you honor
and distinguish above all other men. May I for weighty
reasons which fill me with distress, beg but a minute's
conversation with you here ?" 1 "
" Who that was inexperienced in deceit, and had a
frank and youthful heart, could ddiibt the speaker's truth
— could doubt it too, when the voice that spoke, was
like the faint echo of one she knew so well, and so much
loved to hear? She inclined her head, and stopping,
cast her eyes upon the ground.
" A little more apart — among these trees. It is an
old man's hand, Miss Haredale ; an honest one, believe
me.
BARNABY RUDGE.
21
She put hers in it as he said these words, and suffered
him to lead her to a neighboring seat.
w You alarm me, sir," she said in a low voice. "You
are not the bearer of any ill news, I hope? "
, -»"Of none that you anticipate," he answered, sitting
down beside her. "Edward is well — quite well. It
is of him I wish to speak, certainly; but I have no mis-
fortune to communicate." ■' ' "• .i f
She bowed her head again, and made as though she
would have begged him to proceed; but said nothing.
" I am sensible that I speak to you at a disadvantage,
dear Miss Haredale. Believe me that I am Hot so for-
getful of the feelings of my younger days as not to know
that you are little disposed to view me with favor. You
have heard me described as cold-hearted, calculating,
selfish" — ! ' i ? !
" " I have never, sir,"—- she interposed with an altered
manner and a firmer voice; " I have never heard you
spoken of m harsh or disrespectful tarms. You do a
great wrong to Edward's nature if you believe him capa-
ble of any mean or base proceeding." ' 1 ' " 1
Pardon me, my sweet young lady, but your un-
Cfe"-LL .... ' \ Mtl A' t> r i .1 j i - 1
"Nor is it my uncle's nature either," she replied, with
a heightened color in her cheek. It is ffot his nature
tb stab'iti the dark, nor is it mine to love such deeds."
" She rose as she spoke, and would have left him ; but
lie detained her with a gentle hand, and besought her in
such persuasive accents to hear him but another minute,
that she was easily prevailed upon to comply, and so sat
down again.
* "And it is," said Mr. Chester, looking upward, and
apostrophizing the air; "it is this frank, ingenuous,
22
BARNAB5T RUDGE.
noble nature, Ned, tlmt you can wound so lightly.
Shame — shame upon you, boy !"
She turned towards him quickly, and with a scornful
look and flashing eyes. There were tears in Mr. Ches-
ter's, but he dashed them hurriedly away, as though un-
willing that bis weakness should be known, and regarded
her with mingled admiration and compassion.
" I never until now," he said, " believed, that the friv-
olous actions of a young man could move me like these
of my own son. I never knew till now, the worth of a
woman's heart, which boys so lightly win and lightly
fling away. Trust me, dear young lady, that I never
until now did know your worth ; and though an abhor-
rence of deceit and falsehood has impelled me to seek
you out, and would have done so had you been the poor-
est and least gifted of your sex, I should have lacked
the fortitude to sustain this interview could I have pic*
tured you to my imagination as you really are."
Oh ! If Mrs. Varden could have seen the virtuous
gentleman as he said these words, with indignation
sparkling from his eyes — if she could have heard his
broken, quavering voice — if she could have beheld him
as he stood bareheaded in the sunlight, and with un-
wonted energy poured forth his eloquence!. , , t
With a haughty face, but pale and trembling too, Em-
ma regarded him in silence. She neither spoke nor
moved, but gazed upon him as though she would look
into his heart. ,,
" I throw off," said Mr. Chester, " the restraint which
natural affection would impose on some men, and reject
all bonds but those of truth and duty. Miss Haredale
you are deceived; you are deceived by your unworthy
lover, and my unworthy son."
BARNABY BUDGE.
24
Still she looked at him steadily, and still said not one
word. ■ • '
" I have ever opposed his professions of love for you ;
you will do me the justice, dear Miss Haredale, to re-
member that. Your uncle and myself were enemies in
early life, and if I had sought retaliation, I might have
found it here. But as we grow older, we grow wiser —
better, I would fain hope — and from the first, I have
opposed him in this attempt. I foresaw the end, and
would have spared you, if I could." ' r
* Speak plainly, sir," she faltered. "You deceive me,
or are deceived yourself. I do not believe you — I can-
not — I should not." '
" First," said Mr. Chester, soothingly, " for there may
be in your mind some latent angry feeling to which I
would not appeal, pray take this letter. It reached my
hands by chance, and by mistake, and should have ac-
counted to you (as I am told) for my son's not answer-
mg some other note of yoors. God forbid, Miss Hare-
dale," said the good gentleman, with great emotion, " that
there should be in your gentle breast one causeless
ground of quarrel with him. You should know, and
you will see, that he was in no fault here."
There appeared something so very candid, so scrupu-
lously honorable, so very truthful and just in this course
i-"- something which rendered the upright person who re-
Sorted to it, so worthy of belief — that Emma's heart,
for the first time, sunk within her. She turned away,
and burst into tears. ' :
" I would," said Mr. Chester, leaning over her, and
speaking in mild and quite venerable accents; " I would,
dear girl, it were my task to banish, not increase, those
tokens of your grief. My son, my erring son — I will
BARNABY BUDGE.
not call him deliberately criminal in this, for men so
young, who have been inconstant twice or thrice before,
act without reflection, almost .without ,a knowledge-of
the wrong they do, *— will break his plighted faith to
you ; has broken it even now. Shall I stop1 here, and
having given you this warning, leave.it to be fulfilled;
or shall I go on ?" , l f*ct i ••! In •
" You will go on, sir," she answered, f and speak more
plainly yet, in justice both to him and me.", .. >, -jr,
"My dear girl," said Mr. Chester, bending over;her
more affectionately still; "whom I would call my daugh-
ter, but the Fates forbid, Edward seeks to, break with
you upon a false and most unwarrantable pretence. I
have it on hi$< own showing; in his own hand.",; Forgive
me, if I have had a watch upon his conduct; I am his
father; I had a regard for your peace and his honor,
and no better resource was left me. There lies on his
desk at this moment, ready for, transmission to you, a
letter, in, which he tells you that our poverty -r- our
, poverty ; his and mine, Miss Haredale —- forbids him to
pursue his claim upon your hand; in which he offers,
voluntarily proposes, to free you from your pledge; and
talks magnanimously (men do so, very commonly, in
such cases) of being in time more worthy your regard
—>and so forth. A letter, to be plain, in which he not
only jilts you -— pardon the word ; I would summon to
your aid your pride and dignity rf not only, jilts you,I
fear, in favor of the object whose slighting treatment
first inspired his brief passion for yourself and gave it
birth in wounded vanity, but affects to make a merit and
a virtue of the act." ; , , ; , , .
She glanced proudly at him once more, as by an.in-
voluntary impulse, and with a swelling breast rejoinerk
BARNABY BUDGE.
25
" If what you say be true, he takes much needless trouble,
sir, to compass his design. He is very tender of my
peace of mind. I quite thank him.', J. i . : ..j .
"The truth of what I tell you, dear young lady," he
replied, f you will test by the receipt or nomreceipt of
the letter of which I speak. — Haredale, my dear fel-
low, I am delighted to see you, although we meet under
singular circumstances, and upon a melancholy occasion.
I hope you are very well." )V). ,n.., •/ *
At these words the young lady raised her eyes, which
were filled with tears; and seeing that her uncle indeed
stood before them, and being quite unequal to the trial
of hearing or of speaking one word mare, hurriedly
withdrew and left them. They stood looking at each
other and at her retreating figure, and for a long time
neither of them spoke. , , j ( ,t, «
" What does this mean ? Explain it," said Mr. Hare-
dale at length. " Why are you here, and why with her ?"
" My dear friend," rejoined the other, resuming his
accustomed manner with infinite readiness, and throw-
ing himself upon the bench, with a weary air, "you
told me not very long ago, at that delightful old tavern
of which you are the esteemed proprietor (and a most
charming establishment it is for persons of rural pui>
suits and in robust health, who are not liable to take
cold), that I had the head and heart of an evil, spirit
in all matters of,,deception. I thought at the time; I
really did think; you flattered me,: But now 1 begin
'o wonder at your discernment, and vanity apart, do
honestly believe you spoke the truth. Did you e.ver
counterfeit extreme ingenuousness and honest indigna-
tion ? My dear fellow, you have no conception, if you
never did, how faint the effort makes one." t
26
BARNABY RUD(iE.
Mr. Haredale surveyed him with a look of cold con-
tempt. " You may evade an explanation, I know," he
said, folding his arms. "But I must have it. I can
wait."
4 " Not at all. Not at all, my good fellow. You shall
not Wait a moment," returned his friend, as he lazily
crossed his legs. " The simplest thing in the world
It lies in a nutshell. Ned has written her a letter —
a boyish, honest, sentimental composition, which remains
as yet in his desk, because he hasn't had the heart to
send it. I have taken a liberty, for which my parental
affection and anxiety are a sufficient excuse, and pos-
sessed myself of the contents. I have described them
to your niece (a most enchanting person, Haredale;
quite an angelic creature), with a little coloring and
description adapted to our purpose. It's done. You
may be quite easy. It's all over. Deprived of their
adherents and mediators; her pride and jealousy roused
to the utmost; with nobody to undeceive her, and you
to confirm me ; you will find that their intercourse will
close with her answer. If she receives Ned's letter by
to-morrow noon, you may date their parting from to-
morrow night. No thanks, I beg; you owe me none.
I have acted for myself; and if I have forwarded our
compact with all the ardor even you could have desired,
I have done so selfishly, indeed;"
1 " I curse the compact, as you call it, with my whole
heart and soul," returned the other. " It was made in
an evil hour. I have bound myself to a lie; I have
leagued myself with you; and though I did so with a
righteous motive, and though it cost me such an effort
*s haply few men know, I hate and despise myself for
the deed."
BARNABY RUDGE.
27
" You are very warm," said Mr. Chester with a lan-
guid smile.
" I am warm. I am maddened by your coldness.
'Death, Chester, if your blood ran warmer in your veins,
and there were no restraints upon me, such as those that
hold and drag me back — well; it is done; you tell
me so, and on such a point I may believe you. When
I am most remorseful for this treachery, I will think
of you and your marriage, and try to justify myself in
such remembrances, for having torn asunder Emma and
your son, at any cost. Our bond is cancelled now, and
we may part" -.It.
Mr. Chester kissed his hand gracefully ; and with the
same tranquil face he had preserved throughout — even
when he had seen his companion so tortured and trans-
ported by his passion that his whole frame was shaken
— lay in his lounging posture on the seat and watched
him as he walked away.
" My scape-goat and my drudge at school," he said,
raising his head to look after him ; " my friend of later
days, who could not keep his mistress when he had won
her, and threw me in her way to carry off the prize ;
I triumph in the present and the past. Bark on, ill-
favored, ill-conditioned cur; fortune has ever been with
me — I like to hear you."
The spot where they had met, was in an avenue ot
trees, Mr. Haredale not passing out on either hand, had
walked straight on. He chanced to turn his head when
at some considerable distance, and seeing that his late
companion had by that time risen and was looking after
him, stood still as though he half expected him to fol-
'ow and waited for his coming up.
" It may come to that one day, but not yet," said Mr.
28
BARNABT BUDGE.
Chester, waving his hand, as though they were the best
of friends, and turning away. "Not yet, Haredale.
Life is pleasant enough to me; dull and full of heavi-
ness to you. No. To cross swords with such a man
— to indulge his humor unless upon extremity — would
be weak indeed." ' ' • •
For all that, he drew bis sword as he walked along,
and in an absent bumor ran his eye from hilt to point
full twenty times. But thoughtfulness begets wrinkles;
remembering this, he soon put it up, smoothed his con-
tracted brow, hummed a gay tune with greater gayety
of manner, and was his unruffled self again.
I
BARNABY BUDGE.
29
CHAPTER XXX.
t
A homely proverb recognizes the existence of a
troublesome class of persons who, having an inch con-
ceded them, will take an ell. Not to quote the illus-
trious examples of those heroic scourges of mankind,
whose amiable path in life has been from birth to death
through blood, and fire, and ruin, and who would seem
to have existed for no better purpose than to teach
mankind that as the absence of pain is pleasure, so the
earth purged of their presence, may be deemed a blessed
place — not to quote such mighty instances, it will be
sufficient to refer to old John Willet.
Old John having long encroached a good standard
inch, full measure, on the liberty of Joe, and having
snipped off a Flemish ell in the matter of the parole,
grew so despotic and so great, that his thirst for con-
quest knew no bounds. The more young Joe submitted,
the more absolute old John became. The ell soon faded
into nothing. Yards, furlongs, miles arose ; and on went
old John in the pleasantest manner possible, trimming
off an exuberance in this place, shearing away some
liberty of speech or action in that, and conducting him-
self in his small way with as much high mightiness
and majesty, as the most glorious tyrant that ever had
his statue reared in the public ways, of ancient or of
modern times.
As great men are urged on to the abuse of power
30
IIARNABY RUDGF.
(when they need urging, which is not often) by theiir
flatterers and dependents, so old John was impelled to
these exercises of authority by the applause and ad-
miration of his Maypole cronies, who, in the intervals
of their nightly pipes and pots, would shake their heads
and say that Mr. Willet was a father of the good old
English sort; that there were no newfangled notions
or modern ways in him; that he put them in mind of
what their fathers were when they were boys; that
there was no mistake about him ; that it would be well
for the country if there were more like him, and more
was the pity that there were not; with many other
original remarks of that nature. Then they would con-
descendingly give Joe to understand that it was all for
his good, and he would be thankful for it one day;
and in particular, Mr. Cobb would acquaint him, that
when he was his age, his father thought no more of
giving him a parental kick, or a box on the ears, or a
cuff on the head, or some little admonition of that sort,
than he did of any other ordinary duty of life; and he
would further remark, with looks of great significance,
that but for this judicious bringing up, he might have
never been the man he was at that present speaking;
which was probable enough, as he was, beyond all ques-
tion, the dullest dog of the party. In sh^rt, between old
John, and old John's friends, there never was an unfor-
tunate young fellow so bullied, badgered, worried, fretted,
and browbeaten ; so constantly beset, or made so tired
of his life, as poor Joe Willet.
This had come to be the recognized and established
state of tilings ; but as John was very anxious to flour-
ish his supremacy before the eyes of Mr. Chester, he
did that day exceed himself, and did so goad and chafe
BARNABY BUDGE. 31
his son and heir, that but for Joe's having made a sol-
emn vow to keep his hands in his pockets when they
were not otherwise engaged, it is impossible to say what
he might have done with them. But the longest day
has an end, and at length Mr. Chester came down-stairs
to mount his horse which was ready at the door.
As old John was not in the way at the moment; Joe,
who was sitting in the bar ruminating on his dismal fate
and the manifold perfections of Dolly Varden, ran out
to hold the guest's stirrnp, and assist him to mount.
Mr. Chester was: scarcely in the saddle, and Joe was
in the very act of making him a graceful bow, when old
John came diving out of the porch, and collared him.
"None of that, sir," said John, "none of that, sir.
No breaking of patroles. How dare you come out of
the door, sir, without leave ? You're trying to get
away, sir, are you, and to make a traitor of yourself
again? What do yon mean, sir?"
" Let me go, father," said Joe, imploringly, as he
marked the smile upon their visitor's face, and observed
the pleasure his disgrace afforded him. " This is too
bad. Who wants to get away ?. ? . a 1 1 I
" Who wants to get away 1" cried John, shaking him.
" Why you do, sir, you do. You're the boy, sir," added
John, collaring with one hand, and aiding the effect of a
farewell bow to the visitor with the other, " that wants
to sneak into houses, and stir up differences between no-
ble gentlemen and their sons, are you, eh ? Hold yout
tongue, sir." .
Joe made no effort to reply. It was the crowning
zircumstance of his degradation. He extricated him-
self from his father's grasp, darted an angry look at
the departing guest, and returned into the house.
38
BARNABY RUDGE.
"But for her," thought Joe, as he threw his arms
upon a table in the common room, and laid his head
upon them, " but for Dolly, who I couldn't bear should
think me the rascal they would make me out.to be
if I ran away, this house and I should part to-
night." i "I ' * - •, ' i "
. It being evening by this time, Solomon Daisy, Tom
Cobb, and Long Parkes, were all in the common room
too, and had from the window been witnesses of what
had just occurred. Mr. Willet joining them soon af-
terwards, received the compliments of the companywith
great composure, and lighting his pipe sat down among
them. si " i ■> *'«■*» . I u
■>" We'll see, gentlemen," said John after a long pause,
" who's the master of this house, and who isn't. We'll
see whether boys are to govern men, or men are to
govern boys." 11 ■ t . ...
" And quite right too," assented Solomon Daisy with
some approving nods ; > " quite right, Johnny. Very
good, Johnny. Well said, Mr. Willet. Brayvo, sir."
John slowly brought his eyes to bear upon him,
looked at him for a long time, and finally made an-
swer to the unspeakable consternation of his hearers,
"When I want encouragement from you, sir, I'll ask
you for it You let me alone, sir. I can get on with-
out you, I hope. Don't you tackle me, sir, if you
please."
" Don't take it ill, Johnny ; I didn't mean any harm,"
pleaded the little man.
" Very good, sir," said John, more than usually ob-
stinate after his late success. " Never mind, sir. I can
stand pretty firm of myself, sir, I believe, without being
shored up by you. And having given utterance to this
BARNABY RUDGE.
33
retort, Mr. Willet fixed his eyes upon the boiler, and fell
into a kind of tobacco-trance.
The spirits of the company being somewhat damped
by this embarrassing line of conduct on the part of their
host, nothing more was said for a long time ; but at
length Mr. Cobb took upon himself to remark, as he
rose to knock the ashes out of his pipe, that he hoped
Joe would thenceforth learn to obey his father in all
things; that he had found, that day, he was not one of
the sort of men who were to be (rifled with; and "that
he would recommend him. poetically speaking, to mind
hi^ eye for the future. '* * 'Kr !
"I'd recommend you, in return," said Joe, looking up
with a flushed face, "not to talk' to me."" " 11
" Hold your tongue, sir," cried Mr. Willet, suddenly
rousing himself, and turning round.
" I won't, father," cried Joe, smiting the table with
his fist, so that the jugs and glasses rung again ; " these
things are hard enough to bear from you ; from anybody
else I never will endure them any more. Therefore I
say, Mr. Cobb, don't talk to me."
" Why, who are you," said Mr. Cobb, sneeringly,
" that you're not to be talked to, eh, Joe ? "
To which Joe returned no answer, but with a very
ominous shake of the head, resumed his old position,
which he would have peacefully preserved until the
house shut up at night, but that Mr. Cobb, stimulated
by the wonder of the company at the young man's pre-
sumption, retorted with sundry taunts, which proved too
much for flesh and blood to bear. Crowding into one
moment the vexation and the wrath of years, Joe started
up, overturned the table, fell upon his long enemy, pom-
melled him with all his might and main, and finished by
vni, ti 3
34
BARNABY RUDGE.
driving him with surprising swiftness against a heap of
spittoons in one corner; plunging into which, head fore-
most, with a tremendous crash, he lay at full length
among the ruins, stunned and motionless. Then, with-
out waiting to receive the compliments of the by-stand-
ers on the victory he had won, he retreated to his own
bedchamber, and considering himself in a state of siege,
piled all the portable furniture against the door by way
of barricade. ., l( , ,
" I have done it now," said Joe, as he sat down upou.
his bedstead and wiped his heated face.. "J knew it
would come at last. The Maypole and I must part,
company. I'm a roving vagabond — she hates me lor
evermore —it's all over!? , , •, ,. ,
BARNABY RUDGE.
85
CHAPTER XXXI.
Pondering on his unhappy lot, Joe sat and listened
for a long time, expecting every moment to hear their
creaking footsteps on the stairs, or to be greeted by bis
worthy father with a summons to capitulate uncondition-
ally, and deliver himself up straightway. But neither
voice nor footsteps came; and though some distant
echoes, as of closing doors and people hurrying in and
out of rooms, resounding from time to time through the
great passages, and penetrating to his remote seclusion,
gave note of unusual commotion down-stairs, no nearer
sound disturbed his place of retreat, which seemed the
quieter for these far-off noises, and was as dull and full
of gloom as any hermit's cell.
It came on darker and darker. The old-fashioned
furniture of the chamber, which was a kind of hospital
for all the invalided movables in the house, grew indis-
tinct and shadowy in its many shapes ; chairs and tables,
which by day were as honest cripples as need be, as-
sumed a doubtful and mysterious character; and one
old leprous screen of faded India leather and gold bind-
ing, which had kept out many a cold breath of air in
days of yore and shut in many a jolly face, frowned on
him with a spectral aspect, and stood at full height in
its allotted corner, like some gaunt ghost who waited
to be questioned. A portrait opposite the window —
a queer, old gray-eyed general, in an oval frame —
36
BARNABY RUDGE.
seemed (o wink and doze as the light decayed, and at
length, when the last faint glimmering speck of day
went out, to shut its eyes in good earnest, and fall sound
asleep. There was such a hush and mystery about
everything, that Joe could not help following its ex-
ample; and so went off into i a slumber likewise, and
dreamed of Dolly, till the clock of Chigwell- church
struck two. - . ,u 1
Still nobody came. The distant noises in the house
had ceased, and out of doors all was quiet too; save for
the occasional barking of some deep-mouthed dog, and
the shaking of the branches by the night wind. He
gazed mournfully out of window at each well-known
object as it lay sleeping in the dim light of the moon;
and creeping back to his former seat, thought about the
late uproar, until, with long thinking of, it seemed to
have occurred a month ago. Thus, between dozing,
and thinking, and walking to the window and looking
out, the night wore away ; the grim old screen, and the
kindred chairs and tables, began slowly to reveal them-
selves in their accustomed forms; the gray-eyed general
seemed to wink and yawn and rouse himself; and at
last he was broad awake again, and very uncomfortable
and cold and haggard he looked, in the dull gray light
of morning.
The sun had begun to peep above the forest trees, and
already flung across the curling mist bright bars of gold,
when Joe dropped from his window on the ground below,
a little bundle and his trusty stick, and prepared to de-
scend himself.
It was not a very difficult task; for there were so
many projections and gable ends in the way, that they
formed a series of clumsy steps, with no greater obstacle
BARNABY RUDGF.
37
than a jump of some few feet at last. Joe, with his
stick and bundle on his shoulder, quickly stood on the
firm earth, and looked up at the old Maypole, it might
be for the last time.
He didn't apostrophize it, for he was no great scholar.
He didn't curse it, for he had little ill-will to give to any-
thing on earth. He felt more affectionate and kind to it.
than ever he had done in all his life before, so said with
all his heart, " God bless you !" as a parting wish, and
turned away. . T.
He walked along at a brisk pace, big with great
thoughts of going for a soldier and dying in some foreign
country where it was very hot and sandy, and leaving
God knows what unheard-of, wealth in prize-money to
Dolly, who would be very much affected when she came
to know of itand full of such youthful visions, which
were sometimes sanguine and sometimes melancholy, but
always had her for their main point and centre, pushed
on vigorously until the noise of London sojunded in his
ears, and the Black Lion hove in sight.
It was only eight o'clock then, and very much as-
tonished the Black Lion was, to see him come walking
in wifh dust upon his feet at that early hour, with no
gray mare to bear him company. But as he ordered
breakfast to be got ready with all speed, and on its being
set before him gave indisputable tokens of a hearty ap-
petite, the Lion received him, as usual, with a hospitable
welcome ; and treated him with those marks: of distinc-
tion, which, as a regular customer, and one within the
freemasonry of the trade, he had a right to claim.
This Lion or landlord, — for he was called both man
and beast, by reason of his having instructed the artist
who painted his sign, to convey into the features of the
38
BARNABY RTTDGE.
lordly brute whose effigy it bore, as near a counterpart
of his own face as bis skill could compass and devise, —
was a gentleman almost as quick of apprehension, and
of almost as subtle a wit, as the mighty John himself.
But the difference between them lay in this; that
whereas Mr. Willet's extreme sagacity and acuteness
were the efforts of unassisted nature, the Lion stood
indebted, in no small amount, to beer; of which he
swigged snch copious draughts, that most of his facul-
ties were utterly drowned and washed away, except the
one great faculty of sleep, which he retained in surpris-
mg perfection. The creaking Lion over the house-door
was, therefore, to say the truth, rather a drowsy, tame,
and feeble lion ; and as these social representatives of
a savage class are usually of a conventional character
(being depicted, for the most part, in impossible attitudes
and of unearthly colors) he was frequently supposed by
the more ignorant and uninformed among the neighbors,
to be the veritable portrait of the host as he appeared on
the occasion of some great funeral Cefemony or public
mourning.
" What noisy fellow is that in the next room ?" said
Joe, when he had disposed of his breakfast, and had
washed and brushed himself.
" A recruiting sergeant," replied the Lion.
Joe started involuntarily. Here Was the very thing
he had been dreaming of, all the way along.
" And 1 wish," said the Lion, " he was anywhere else
but here. The party make noise enough, but they don't
call for much. There's great cry there, Mr. Willet; bat
very little wool. Your father wouldn't like 'em, J know."
Perhaps not much under any circumstances. Per-
haps if he could have known what was passing at that
BARNABY RUDGE. 39
moment in Joe's mind, he would have liked them still
less.
" Is he recruiting for a — for a fine regiment ? " said
Joe, glancing at a little round mirror that hung in the
bar.
" I believe he is," replied the host. " It's much
the same thing, whatever regiment he's recruiting for.
I'm told there a'n't a deal of difference between a fine
man and another one, when they're shot through and
through."
" They're not all shot," said Joe.
" No," the Lion answered, " not all. Those that are
— supposing it's done easy — are the best off in my
opinion."
" Ah !" retorted Joe, " but you don't care for glory."
" For what?" said the Lion.
" Glory."
" Nq," returned the Lion, with supreme indifference.
" I don't. You're right in that, Mr. Willet. When
Glory comes here, and calls for anything to drink and
changes a guinea to pay for it, I'll give it him for noth-
ing. It's my belief, sir, that the Glory's arms wouldn't
do a very strong business."
These remarks were not at all comforting. Joe walked
out, stopped at the door of the next room, and listened.
The sergeant was describing a military life. It was all
drinking, he said, except that there were frequent inter-
vals of eating and love-making. A battle was the finest
thing in the world — when your side won it — and
Englishmen always did that. " Supposing you should
be killed, sir ? " said a timid voice in one corner. " Well,
sir, supposing you should be," sqid the sergeant, " what
then ? Your country loves yap, sir ; his Majesty King
10
BARNABY RUDGE.
George the Third loves you ; your memory is honored,
revered, respected;. everybody's fond of you, and grate-
ful to you ; your name's wrote down at full length in a
book in the War-office. Damme, gentlemen, we must
all die some time, or another, eh?"
The voice coughed, and said no more.
Joe walked into the room. A group of half a dozen
fellows had gathered together in the tap-room, and were
listening with greedy ears. One of them, a carter in a
smock frock, seemed wavering and disposed to enlist.
The rest, who were by no means disposed, strongly
urged him to do so (according to the custom of man-
kind), backed the sergeant's arguments, and grinned
among themselves. " I say nothing, boys," . said the
sergeant, who sat a little apart drinking his liquor.
"For lads of spirit" — here he cast an eye on Joe —
" this is the time. I don't want to inveigle you. The
king's not come to that, I hope. Brisk young blood is
what we want; not milk and water. We won't take five
men out of six. We want top-sawyerS, we do. I'm not
a-going to tell tales out of school, but, damme, if every
gentleman's son that carries arms in our corps, through
being under a cloud and having little differences with his
relations, was counted up"—here his eye fell on Joe
again, and so good-naturedly, that Joe beckoned him out.
He came directly.
" You're a gentleman, by G—!" was his first re-
mark, as he slapped him on the back. " You're a
gentleman in disguise. So am I. Let's swear a friend-
ship."
Joe didn't exactly do that, but he shook hands with
him, and thanked him for his good opinion.
" You want to serve," said his new friend. " You
BARNABY HUDGE.
41
shall. You were made for it. You're one of us by
nature. What'll you take to drink ? "
" Nothing just now," replied Joe, smiling faintly. u I
haven't quite made up my mind."
"A mettlesome fellow like you, and not made up his
mind ! " cried the sergeant. " Here — let me give the
bell a pull, and you'll make up your mind in half a
minute, I know."
" You're right so far " — answered Joe, " for if you
pull the bell here, where I'm known, there'll be an end
of my soldiering inclinations in no time. Look in my
face. You see me, do you?"
" I do," replied the sergeant with an oath, " and a
finer young fellow or one better qualified to serve his
king and country, I never set my " — he used an adjec-
five in this place — " eyes on."
" Thank you," said Joe, " I didn't ask you for want of
a compliment, but thank you all the same. Do I look
like a sneaking fellow or a liar ?"
The sergeant rejoined with many choice asseverations
that he didn't; and that if his (the sergeant's) own father
were to say he did, he would run the old gentleman
through the body cheerfully, and consider it a meri-
torious action. ' 1
Joe expressed his obligations, and continued, "You
can trust me then, and credit what I say. I believe I
shall enlist into your regiment to-night. The reason
I don't do so now is because I don't want until to-
night, to do what I can't recall. Where shall I find
you this evening?"
His friend replied with some unwillingness, and after
much ineffectual entreaty having for its object the im-
mediate settlement of the business, that his quarters
42
BABNABY RUDGE.
would be at the Crooked Billet in Tower-street; where
he would be found waking until midnight, and sleeping
until breakfast time to-morrow.
" And if I do come — which it's a million to one, I
shall — when will you take me out of London ? " de-
manded Joe.
" To-morrow morning, at half after eight o'clock," re-
plied the sergeant. " You'll go abroad — a country
where it's all sunshine and plunder — the finest climate
in the world." •
" To go abroad," said Joe, shaking hands with him, "is
the very thing I want. You may expect me."
" You're the kind of lad for us," cried the sergeant,
holding Joe's hand in his, in the excess of his admiration.
" You're the boy to push your fortune. I don't say it
because 1 bear you any envy, or would take away from
the credit of the rise you'll make, but if I had been bred
and taught like you, I'd have been a colonel by this
time."
u Tush man 1" said Joe, " I'm not so young as that.
Needs must when the devil drives; and the devil that
drives me is an empty pocket and an unhappy home.
For the present, good-by."
" For king and country ! " cried the sergeant, flourish-
ing his cap.
" For bread and meat!" cried Joe, snapping liis fin-
gers. And so they parted.
He had very little money in his pocket; so little in
deed, that after paying for his breakfast (which he was
too honest and perhaps too proud to score up to his
father's charge) he had but a penny left. He had cour-
age, notwithstanding, to resist all the affectionate impor-
tunities of the sergeant, who waylaid him at the door
BARNABY RUDGE.
43
with many protestations of eternal friendship, and did in
particular request that he would do him the favor to ac-
cept of only cme shilling as a temporary accommodation.
Rejecting his offers both of cash and credit, Joe walked
away with stick and bundle as before, bent upon getting
through the day as he best could, and going down to the
locksmith's in the dusk of the evening ; for it should go
hard, he had resolved, but he would have a parting word
with charming Dolly Varden.
He went out by Islington and so on to Highgate, and
sat on many stones and gates, but there were no voices
in the bells to bid him turn. Since the time of noble
Whittington, fair flower of merchants, bells have come
to have less sympathy with humankind. They only
ring for money and on state occasions. Wanderers
have increased in number; ships leave the Thames for
distant regions, cairying from stem to stern no other
cargo; the bells are silent; they ring out no entreaties
or regrets ; they are used to it and have grown worldly.
Joe bought a roll, and reduced his purse to the condi-
tion (with a difference) of that celebrated purse of For-
tunatus, which, whatever were its favored owner's neces-
sities, had one unvarying amount in it. In these real
times, when all the Fairies are dead and buried, there
are still a great many purses which possess that quality
The sum-total they contain is expressed in arithmetic by
a circle, and whether it be added to or multiplied by its
own amount, the result of the problem Is more easily
stated than any known in figures.
Evening drew on at last. With the desolate and soli
iary feeling of one who had no home or shelter, and was
alone utterly in the world for the first time, he bent his
steps towards the locksmith's house. He had delayed til!
44
BARNABY RUDGE.
now, knowing that Mrs. Varden sometimes went out alone,
or with Miggs for her sole attendant, to lectures in the
evening; and devoutly hoping that this might be one of
her nights of moral culture.
He had walked up and down before the house, on the
opposite side of the way, two or three times, when as he
returned to it again, he caught a glimpse of a fluttering
skirt at the door. It was Dolly's — to whom else could
it belong? no dress but hers had such a flow as that.
He plucked up his spirits, and followed it into the work-
shop of the Golden Key.
His darkening the door caused her to look round. Oh
that face! " If it hadn't been for that," thought Joe, " I
should never have walked into poor Tom Cobb. She's
twenty times handsomer than ever. She might marry
a Lord!"
He didn't say this. He only thought it—perhaps
looked it also. Dolly was glad to see him, and was so
sorry her father and mother were away from home. Joe <
begged she wouldn't mention it on any account.
Dolly hesitated to lead* the way into the parlor, for
there it was nearly dark ; at the same time she hesitated
to stand talking in the workshop, which was yet light and
open to the street. They had got by some means, too, be-
fore the little forge; and Joe having her hand in his (which ,
he had no right to have, for Dolly only gave it him to
shake), it was so like standing before some homely alt.n
being married, that it was the most embarrassing state
of things in the world.
" I have come," said Joe, " to say good-by — to say i
good-by for I don't know how many years ; perhaps for- I
ever. I am going abroad." j
Now this was exactly what he should not have said. |
BARNABY RUDGE.
45
Here he was, talking like a gentleman at large who waa
free to come and go and roam about the world at hia
pleasure, when that gallant coach-maker had vowed but
the night before that Miss Varden held him bound in
adamantine chains; and had positively stated in so many
words that she was killing him by inches, and that in a
fortnight more or thereabouts he expected to make a
decent end and leave the business to his mother.
Dolly released her hand and said " Indeed! " She re-
marked in the same breath that it was a fine night, and
in short, betrayed no more emotion than the forge itself.
" I couldn't go," said Joe, " without coming to see you.
I hadn't the heart to."
Dolly was more sorry than she could tell, that he
should have taken so much trouble. It was such a long
way, and he must have such a deal to do. And how waa
Mr. Willet — that dear old gentleman " —
" Is this all you say ! " cried Joe.
All! Good gracious, what did the man expect! She
was obliged to take her apron in her hand and run her
eyes along the hem from corner to corner, to keep her-
self from laughing in his face; — not because his gaze
confused her — not at all.
Joe had small experience in love-affairs, and had no
notion how different young ladies are at different times ;
he had expected to take Dolly up again at the very point
where he had left her after that delicious evening ride,
and was no more prepared for such an alteration than to
see the sun and moon change places. He had buoyed
himself up all day with an indistinct idea that she would
certainly say " Don't go," or " Don't leave us," or " Why
do you go ?" or " Why do you leave us ?" or would
$ive him some little encouragement of that sort; he had
4<5
BARNABY BUDGE.
even entertained the possibility of her bursting into tearf|
of Iter throwing herself into his arms, of her falling
down in a fainting fit without previous word or sign;
but any approach to such a line of conduct as this, had
been so far from his thoughts that he could; only look at
her in silent wonder.
Dolly in the mean while turned to the corners of her
apron, and measured the sides, and smoothed out the
wrinkles, and was as silent as he. At last, after a long
pause, Joe said good-by. "Good-by," — said Dolly--
with as pleasant a smile as if he were going into the
next street, and were coming back to supper; "good-by."
" Come," said Joe, putting out both his hands, " Dolly,
dear Dolly, don't let us part like this. I love you dearly,
with all my heart and soul; with as much truth and
earnestness as ever man loved woman in this world, I
do believe. I am a poor fellow, as you know — poorer
now than ever, for I have fled from home, not being able
to bear it any longer, and must fight my own way with-
out help. You are beautiful, admired, are loved by
everybody, are well off and happy ; and may you ever
be so! Heaven forbid I should ever make you other-
wise; but give me a word of comfort. Say something
kind to me. I have no right to expect it of you, I know,
but I ask it because I love you, and shall treasure the
slightest word from you all through my life. Dolly dear-
est, have you nothing to say to me?"
No. Nothing. Dolly was a coquette by nature, and
a spoilt child. She had no notion of being carried by
storm in this way. The coach-maker would have been
dissolved in tears, and would have knelt down, and called
himself names, and clasped his hands, and beat his
breast, and tugged wildly at his cravat, and done all
BARNABY RUDGE.
47
kinds of poetry. Joe had no business to be going abroad.
He had no righ'. to be able to do it. If he was in ada-
mantine chains, he couldn't.
" I have said good-by," said Dolly, " twice. Take
your arm away directly, Mr. Joseph, or I'll call Miggs."
" I'll not reproach you," answered Joe, " it's my fault,
no doubt. I have thought sometimes that you didn't
quite despise me, but I was a fool to think so. Every
one must, who has seen the life I have led — you most
of all. God bless you ! "
He was gone, actually gone. Dolly waited a little
while, thinking he would return, peeped out at the door,
looked up the street and down as well as the increasing
darkness would allow, came in again, waited a little
longer, went up-stairs humming a tune, bolted herself
in, laid her head down on her bed, and cried as if her
heart would break. And yet such natures are made up
of so many contradictions, that if Joe Willet had come
back that night, next day, next week, next month, the
odds are a hundred to one she would have treated him
in the very same manner, and have wept for it after-
wards with the very same distress.
She had no sooner left the workshop than there cau-
tiously peered out from behind the chimney of the forge,
a face which had already emerged from the same con-
cealment twice or thrice, unseen, and which, after satis-
'ying itself that it was now alone, was followed by a leg,
a shoulder, and so on by degrees, until the form of Mr
Tappertit stood confessed, with a brown paper cap stuck
negligently 011 one side of its head, and its arms very
much a-kimbo.
" Have my ears deceived me," said the 'Prentice, " or
do I dream! am I to thank thee, Fortun', or to cus thee
— which ? "
48
BARNABY RUDGE.
He gravely descended from his elevation, took down
his piece of looking-glass, planted it against the wall
upon the usual bench, twisted his head round, and looked
closely at his legs. t
" If they're a dream," said Sim, " let sculptures have
such wisions, and chisel 'em out when they wake. This
is reality. Sleep has no such limbs as theln. Tremble,
Willet, and despair. She's mine ! She's mine !"
With these triumphant expressions, he seized a ham-
mer and dealt a heavy blow at a vice, which in his
mind's eye represented the sconce or head of Joseph
Willet. That done, he burst into a peal :f laughter
which startled Miss Miggs even in her distant kitchen,
and dipping his head into a bowl of water, had recourse
to a jack-towel inside the closet-door, which served the
double purpose of smothering his feelings and drying his
face.
Joe, disconsolate and down-hearted, but full of courage
too, on leaving the locksmith's house made the best of
his way to the Crooked Billet, and there inquired for his
friend the sergeant, who, expecting no man less, received
him with open arms. In the course of five minutes after
his arrival at that house of entertainment, he was en-
rolled among the gallant defenders of his native land;
and within half an hour, was regaled with a steaming
supper of boiled tripe and onions, prepared, as his friend
assured him more than once, at the express command of
his most Sacred Majesty the King. To this meal, which
tasted very savory after his long fasting, he did ample
justice ; and when he had followed it up, or down, with
a variety of loyal and patriotic toasts, he was conducted
to a straw mattress in a loft over the stable, and locked
in there for the night.
BARNABY RCDGE.
The next morning, he found that the obliging care of
his martial friend had decorated his hat with sundry
particolored streamers, which made a very lively ap-
pearance; and in company with that officer, and three
other military gentlemen newly enrolled, who were un-
der a cloud so dense that it only left three shoes, a boot,
and a coat and a half visible among them, repaired to
the river side. Here tbey were joined by a corporal
and four more heroes, of whom two were drunk and
daring, and two sober and penitent, but each of whom,
like Joe, had his dusty stick and bundle. The party
embarked in a passage-boat bound for Gravesend,
whence they were to proceed on foot to Chatham ; the
wind was in their favor, and they soon left London be-
hind them, a mere dark mist —r a giant phantom in
the air. ,
vcl n.
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER XXXII.
!
1 I
Misfortunes, saith the adage, never come singly.
There is little douht that troubles are exceedingly gre-
garious in their nature, and flying in flocks, are apt to
perch capriciously ; crowding on the heads of some poor
wights until there is not an inch of room left on their
unliicky crowns, and taking no more notice of others
who offer as good resting-places for the soles of their
feet, than if they had no existence. It may have hap-
pened that a flight of troubles brooding over London,
and looking out for Joseph Willet, whom they couldn't
find, darted down haphazard on the first young man
that caught their fancy, and settled on him instead.
However this may be, certain it is that on the very day
of Joe's departure they swarmed about the ears of Ed-
ward Chester, and did so buzz and flap their wings, and
persecute him, that he was most profoundly wretched.
It was evening, and just eight o'clock, when he and
his father, having wine and dessert set before them, were
left to themselves for the first time that day. They had
dined together, but a third person had been present dur-
ing the meal, and until they met at table they had not
seen each other since the previous night.
Edward was reserved and silent, Mr. Chester was
more than usually gay; but not caring, as it seemed, to
open a conversation with one whose humor was so dif-
Cerent, he vented the lightness of his spirit in smiles and
BARNABY BUDGE.
51
sparkling looks, and made no effort to awaken his atten-
tion. So they remained for some time: the father lying
on a sofa with his accustomed air of graceful negligence;
the son seated opposite to him with downcast eyes,
busied, it was plain, with painful and uneasy thoughts.
" My dear Edward," said Mr. Chester at length, with
a most engaging laugh, " do not extend your drowsy
influence to the decanter. Suffer that to circulate, let
your spirits be never so stagnant."
Edward begged his pardon, passed it, and relapsed
info his former state.
"Yqu do wrong not to fill your glass," said Mr.
Chester, holding up his own before the light "Wine
in moderation — not in excess, for that makes men ugly
— has a thousand pleasant influences. It brightens the
eye, improves the voice, imparts a new vivacity to one's
thoughts and conversation : you should try it, Ned,"
" Ah father!" cried his son, " if" —
"My good fellow," interposed the parent hastily, as
he set down his glass, and raised his eyebrows with a
startled and horrified expression, " for heaven's sake
don't calf me by that obsolete and ancient name. Have
some regard for delicacy. Am I gray, or wrinkled, do
I go on crutches, have I lost my teeth, that you adopt
such a mode of address ? Good God, how very coarse"
"I was about, to speak to you from my heart, sir,"
returned Edward, " ip the confidence which should sub
ist between us; and you check me in the outset."
" Now do, Ned, do not," said Mr. Chester, raising his
delicate hand imploringly, " talk in that monstrous man-
ner. About to speak from your heart. Don't you know
that the heart is an ingenious part of our formation —
the centre of the bloodvessels and all that sort of thing
52
BARNABY RUDGE.
— which has no more to do with what you say or think,
than your knees have? How can you be so very vulgar
and absurd ? These anatomical allusions' should be left
to gentlemen of the medical profession. They are really
not agreeable in society. You quite surprise me, Ned."
* " Well! there are no such things to wound, or heal, or
have regard for. I know your creed, sir, and will say
no more," returned his son.
"There again," said Mr. Chester, sipping his wino,
' you are wrong. I distinctly say there are such things.
We know there are. The hearts of animals — of bul-
locks, sheep, and so forth — are cooked and devoured, as
I am told, by the lower classes, with a vast deal of relish.
Men are sometimes stabbed to the heart, shot to the
heart; but as to speaking from the heart, or to the heart,
or being warm-hearted, or cold-hearted, or broken-
hearted, or being all heart, or having no heart — pah !
these things are nonsense, Ned."
" No doubt, sir," returned his son, seeing that he
paused for him to speak. " No doubt."
."There's Haredale's niece, your late flame," said Mr.
Chester, as a careless illustration of his meaning. " No
doubt in your mind she was all heart once. Now she
has none at all. Yet she is the same person, Ned, ex-
actly."
" She is a changed person, sir," cried Edward, redden-
ing; " and changed by vile means, I believe."
" You have had a cool dismissal, have you ? " said his
father. " Poor Ned ! I told you last night what would
happen. — May I ask you for the nut-crackers ?"
" She has been tampered with, and most treacherously
deceived," cried Edward, rising from his seat. " I never
will believe that the knowledge of my real position,
BARNABY RUI>GE.
53
given her by myself, has worked this change. I know
she is beset and tortured. But though our contract is
at an end, and broken past all redemption ; though I
charge upon her want of firmness and want of truth,
both to herself and me; I do not now, and never will
believe, that any sordid motive, or her own unbiassed
will, has led her to this course—never!"
"You make me blush," returned his father, gayly,
"for the folly of your nature, in which —but we never
know ourselves — I devoutly hope there is no reflection
of my own. With regard to the young lady herself, she
has done what is very natural and proper, my dear fel-
low ; what you yourself proposed, as I learn from Hare-
dale ; and what I predicted — with no great exercise of
sagacity — she would do. She supposed you to be rich,,
or at least quite rich enough; and found you poor.
Marriage is a civil contract; people marry to better
their worldly condition and improve appearances; it is
an affair of house and furniture, of liveries, servants,
equipage, and so forth. The lady being poor and you
poor also, there is an end of the matter. You cannot
enter upon these considerations, and have no manner of
business with the ceremony. I drink her health in this
glass, and respect and honor her for her extreme good
sense. It is a lesson to you. Fill yours, Ned."
" It is a lesson," returned his son, " by which I hope I
may never profit, and if years and their experience im-
press it on " —
" Don't say on the heart," interposed his father.
" On men whom the world and its hypocrisy have
spoiled," said Edward, warmly; " Heaven keep me from
its knowledge."
" Come, sir." returned his father, raising himself a lit-
54
BARNABY BUDGE.
tie on the sofa, and looking straight towards him; " we
have had enough of this. Remember, if jou please,
your interest, your duty, your moral obligations, your
filial affections, and all that sort of thing which it is so
very delightful and charming to reflect upon ; or you
will repent it,"
" I shall never repent the preservation of my self-
respect, sir," said Edward. " Forgive me if I say that
I will not sacrifice it at your bidding, and that J will not
pursue the track which you would have me take, and to
which the secret share you have had in this late sepa-
ration tends."
His father rose a little higher still, and looking at him
as though curious to know if he were quite resolved and
earnest, dropped gently down again, and said in the
calmest voice, eating his nuts meanwhile,
" Edward, my father had a son, whom being a fool ljke
you, and, like you, entertaining low and disobedient sen-
timents, he disinherited and cursed one morning after
breakfast. The circumstance occurs to me with a singular
clearness of recollection this evening. I remember eat-
ing muffins at the time with marmalade. He led a m»Sr
erable life (the son, I mean) and died early; it was a
happy release on all accounts; he degraded the family
very much. It is a sad circumstance, Edward, when a
father finds it necessary to resort to such strong raeas-
ures."
" It is," replied Edward, " and it is sad when a son,
proffering him his love and duty in their best and truest
sense, finds himself repelled at eyery turn, and forced to
disobey. Dear father," he added, more earnestly though
in a gentler tone, " I have reflected many times on what
occurred between us when we first discussed this subject.
BARNABY RUDGE.
55
Let there be a confidence between us ; not in terms, but
truth. Hear what I have to say."
" As I anticipate what it is, and cannot fail to do so,
Edward," returned his father coldly, " I decline. I
couldn't possibly. I am sure it would put me otit of
emper, Which is a state of mind I can't endure. If you
ntend to mar my plans for your establishment in life,
and the preservation of that gentility and becoming
pride, which our family have so long sustained —• if, in
short, you are resolved to take your own course, you
tiiust take it, ahd my cttrse with it. I am very sorry,
but there's really no alternative."
" The curse may pass your lips," said Edward, " but
it will be but empty breath. I do not believe that any
man on earth has greater power to call one down upon
his fellow — least of all, upon his own child '— than he
baS to make One drop of rain or flake of snow fall from
the Clouds above Us at his" impious bidding. Beware,
sir, what you do."
" Ton are so very irreligious, So exceedingly unduti-
fol, so horribly profane," rejoined his father, turning his
face lazily towards him, and cracking another nut, "that
I positively must interrupt you here. It is quite impos-
sible we can continue to go on, upon such terms as these.
If you will do me the favor to ring the bell, the servant
will show you to the door. Return to this roof no more,
[ beg you. Go, sir, since you have no moral sense re-
naining ; and go to the Devil, at my express desire.
Good-day."
Edward left the room without another word or look,
*nd turned his back upon the house forever.
The father's face was slightly flushed and heated, but
56
BARNABY RUDGE.
his manner was quite unchanged, as he rang the bell
again, and addressed his servant on his entrance.
" Peak —if that gentleman who has just gone out"—
" I beg your pardon, sir, Mr. Edward? "
" Were there more than one, dolt, that you ask the
question?—If that gentleman should send here for his
wardrobe, let him have it, do you hear? If he should
call himself at any time, I'm not at home. You'll tell
him so, and shut the door."
So, it soon got whispered about, that Mr. Chester was
very unfortunate in his son, who had occasioned him
great grief and sorrow. And the good people who
heard this and told it again, marvelled the more at his
equanimity and even temper, and said what an amiable
nature that man must have, who, having undergone so
much, could be so placid and so calm. And when Ed-
ward's name was spoken, Society shook its head and
laid its finger on its lip, and sighed, and looked very
grave; and those who had sons about his age, waxed
wrathful and indignant, and hoped, for Virtue's sake,
that he was dead. And the world went on turning
round, as usual, for five years, concerning which this
Narrative is silent.
BARNABY RUDGE.
57
t .
CHAPTER XXXIII.
One wintry evening, early in the year of our Lord
one thousand seven hundred and eighty, a keen north
wind arose as it grew dark, and night came on with
black and dismal looks. A bitter storm of sleet, sharp,
dense, and icy-cold, swept the wet streets, and rattled on
the trembling windows. Sign-boards, shaken past en-
durance in their creaking frames, fell crashing on the
pavement; old tottering chimneys reeled and staggered
in the blast; and many a steeple rocked again that
night, as though the earth were troubled.
It was not a time for those who could by any means
get light and warmth, to brave the fury of the weather.
In coffee-houses of the better sort, guests crowded round
the fire, forgot to be political, and told each other with a
secret gladness that the blast grew fiercer every minute.
Each humble tavern by the water-side had its group of
uncouth figures round the hearth ; who talked of vessels
foundering at sea, and all hands lost, related many a
dismal tale of shipwreck and drowned men, and hoped
that some they knew were safe, and shook their heads in
doubt. In private dwellings, children clustered near the
blaze ; listening with timid pleasure to tales of ghosts
and goblins and tall figures clad in white standing by
bedsides, and people who had gone to sleep in old
churches and being overlooked had found themselves
alone there at the dead hour of the night; until they
BARNABY KUDGE.
shuddered at the thought of the dark rooms up-stairs,
yet loved to hear the wind moan too, and hoped it would
continue bravely. From time to time these happy in-
door people stopped to listen, or one held up his finger
and cried " Hark ! " and then, above the rumbling in the
chimney, and the fast pattering on the glass, was heard a
wailing, rushing sound, which shook the walls as though
a giant's hand were on them; then a hoarse roar as if
the sea had risen then such a whirl and tumult that the
air seemed mad 5 and then, with a lengthened howl, the
waves of wind swept on, and left a moment's interval of
rest.
Cheerily, though there were none abroad to see it,
shone the Maypole light that evening. Blessings on
the red — deep, ruby, glowing red — old curtain of the
window; blending into one rich stream of brightness,
fire and candle, meat, drink, and company, and gleam-
ing like a jovial eye upon the bleak waste out of doors!
Within, what carpet like its crunching sand, what music
merry as its crackling logs, what perfume like its kitch-
en's dainty breath, what weather genial as its hearty
warmth! Blessings on the old house, how sturdily it
stood 1 How did the vexed wind chafe and roar about
its stalwart roof; how did it pant and strive with its
wide chimneys, which still poured forth from their hos-
pitable throats, great clouds of smoke, and puffed deft-
tnce in its face; how, above all, did it drive and rattle
at the casement, emulous to extinguish that cheerful
glow, which would not be put down and seemed the
brighter for the conflict.
The profusion too, the rich and lavish bounty, of
that goodly tavern 1 It was not enough that one fire
toared and sparkled on its spacious hearth ; in the tiles
BABSABY BUDGE.
59
which paved and compassed it, five hundred flickering
fires burnt brightly also. It was not enough that one
red curtain shut the wild night out, and shed its cheerful
influence on the room. In every saucepan lid and candle-
stick, and vessel of copper, brass, or tin that hung upon
the walls, were countless ruddy hangings, flashing and
gleaming with every motion of the blaze, and offering,
let the eye wander where it might, interminable vistas
of the same rich color. The old oak wainscoting, the
beams, the chairs, the seats, reflected it in a deep dull
glimmer. There were fires and red curtains in the
very eyes of the drinkers, in their buttons, in their
liquor^ in the pipes they smoked.
Mr. Willet sat in what had been his accustomed
place* five years before, with his eyes on the eternal
boiler; and had sat there since the clock struck eight,
giving no other signs of life than breathing with a
loud and constant snore (though he was wide awake),
and from time to time putting his glass to his lips, or
knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and filling it anew.
It was now half-past ten. Mr. Cobb and long Phil
Parkes were his companions, as of old, and for two
mortal hours and a half, none of the company had
pronounced one word.
Whether people, by dint of sitting together in the
same place and the same relative positions, and doing
exactly the same things for a great many years, acquire
a sixth sense, or some unknown power of influencing
each other which serves them in its stead, is a question
for philosophy to settle. But certain it is that old John
Willet, Mr. Parkes, and Mr. Cobb, were one and all
firmly of opinion that they were very jolly companions
— rather choice spirits than otherwise; that they looked
60
BARNABY RUDGE.
at each other every now and then as if there were a
perpetual interchange of ideas going on among them;
that no man considered himself or his neighbor by any
means silent; and that each of them nodded occasion-
ally when he caught the eye of another, as if he would
say, "You have expressed yourself extremely well, sir,
in relation to that sentiment, and I quite agree with
you."
The room was so very warm, the tobacco so very
good, and the fire so very soothing, that Mr. Willet by
degrees began to doze; but as he had perfectly acquired,
by dint of long habit, the art of smoking in his sleep,
and as his breathing was pretty much the same, awake
or asleep, saving that in the latter case he sometimes
experienced a slight difficulty in respiration (such 'as a
carpenter meets with when he is planing and comes to
a knot), neither of his companions was aware of the
circumstance, until he met with one of these impedi-
ments and was obliged to try again.
"Johnny's dropped off," said Mr. Parkes in a whis-
per.
" Fast as a top," said Mr. Cobb.
Neither of them said any more until Mr. Willet came
to another knot — one of surpassing obduracy — which
bade fair to throw him into convulsions, but which he
got over at last without waking, by an effort quite
superhuman.
" He sleeps uncommon hard," said Mr. Cobb.
Mr. Parkes, who was possibly a hard-sleeper himself,
replied with some disdain, " Not a bit on it;" and di-
rected his eyes towards a handbill pasted over the
chimney-piece, which was decorated at the top with a
wood-cut representing a youth of tender years running
BARNABY RUDGE.
61
away very fast, with a bundle over his shoulder at the
end of a stick, and — to carry out the idea — a finger-
post and a mile-stone beside him. Mr. Cobb likewise
turned his eyes in the same direction, and surveyed the
placard as if that were the first time he had ever be*
held it. Now, this was a document which Mr. Willet
had himself indited on the disappearance of his son
Joseph, acquainting the nobility and gentry and the
public in general with the circumstances of his having
left his home; describing his dress and appearance;
and offering a reward of five pounds to any person or
persons who would pack him up and return him safely
to the Maypole at Chigwell, or lodge him in any of his
Majesty's jails until such time as his father should come
and claim him. In this advertisement Mr. Willet had
obstinately persisted, despite the advice and entreaties
of his friends, in describing his son as a "young boy;"
and furthermore as being from eighteen inches to a
couple of feet shorter than he really was; two circum-
stances which perhaps accounted, in some degree, for its
never having been productive of any other effect than
the transmission to Chigwell at various times and at a
vast expense, of some five-and-forty runaways varying
from six years old to twelve.
Mr. Cobb and Mr. Parkes looked mysteriously at this
composition, at each other, and at old John. From the
time he had pasted it up with his own hands, Mr. Willet
had never by word or sign* alluded to the subject, or
encouraged any one else to do so. Nobody had the
least notion what his thoughts or opinions were, con-
nected with it; whether he remembered it or forgot
it; whether he had any idea that such an event had
ever taken place. Therefore, even while he slopt, no
BABSABY BUDGE.
one ventured to refer to it in his presence; and for
such sufficient reasons, these his chosen friends were
silent now.
Mr. Willet had got by this time into such a compli-
cation of knots, that it was perfectly clear he must wake
or die. He chose the former alternative, and opened his
eyes.
" If he don't come in five minutes," said John, " I
shall have supper without him."
The antecedent of this pronoun had been mentioned
for the last time at eight o'clock. Messrs. Parkes and
Cobb being used to this style of conversation, replied
without difficulty that to be sure Solomon was very
late and they wondered what had happened to detain
him.
"He a'n't blown away, I suppose," said Parkes. " It's
enough to carry a man of his figure oflf his legs, and
easy too. Do you hear it ? It blows great guns, in-
deed. There'll be many a crash in the Forest to-night,
I reckon, and many a broken branch upon the ground
to-morrow."
" It won't break anything in the Maypole, I take it,
sir," returned old John. " Let it tiy. I give it leave —
what's that ? "
" The wind," cried Parkes. " It's howling like a
Christian, and has been all night long."
" Did you ever, sir," asked John, after a minute's
contemplation, " hear the 'wind say ' Maypole ' ? "
" Why, what man ever did ? " said Parkes.
" Nor ' ahoy,' perhaps ? " added John.
'■ No. Nor that neither."
" Very good, sir," said Mr. Willet, perfectly unmoved;
14 then if that was the wind just now, and you'll wait a
BARNABY BUDGE.
63
little time without speaking, you'll hear it say both words
very plain."
Mr. Willet was right. After listening for a few mo-
ments, they could clearly hear, above the roar and tu-
mult out of doors, this shout repeated; and that with
a shrillness and energy, which denoted that it came from
some person in great distress or terror. They looked
at each other, turned pale, and held their breath. No
man stirred.
It was in this emergency that Mr. Willet displayed
something of that strength of mind and plenitude of
mental resource, which rendered him the admiration
of all his friends and neighbors. After looking at
Messrs. Parkes and Cobb for some time in silence, he
clapped his two hands to his cheeks, and sent forth a
roar which made the glasses dance and rafters ring —
a long-sustained, discordant bellow, that rolled onward
with the wind, and startling every echo, made the night
a hundred times more boisterous —• a deep, loud, dismal
bray, that sounded like a human gong. Then, with
every vein in his head and face swollen with the great
exertion, and his countenance suffused with a lively pur-
pie, he drew a little nearer to the fire, and turning his
back upon it, said with dignity t —
" If that's any comfort to anybody, they're welcome
to it. If it a'n't, I'm sorry for 'em. If either of you
two gentlemen likes to go out and see what's the mat
er, you can. I'm not curious, myself."
While he spoke the cry drew nearer and nearer,
footsteps passed the window, the latch of the door was
raised, it opened, was violently shut again, and Solo-
mon Daisy, with a lighted lantern in his hand, and the
-ain streaming from his disordered dress, dashed into
the room.
64
I5ARNABY RUDGE.
A more complete picture of terror than the little man
presented, it would be difficult to imagine. The perspi-
ration stood in beads upon his face, his knees knocked
together, his every limb trembled, the power of articula-
tion was quite gone ; and there he stood, panting for
breath, gazing on them with such livid ashy looks, that
they were infected with his fear, though ignorant of its
occasion, and, reflecting his dismayed and horror-stricken
visage, stared back again without venturing to question
him; until old John Willet, in a fit of temporary insanity,
made a dive at his cravat, and, seizing him by that por-
tion of his dress, shook him to and fro until his very
teeth appeared to rattle in his head.
"Tell us what's the matter, sir," said John, "or I'll
kill you. Tell us what's the matter, sir, or in another
second, I'll have your head under the biler. How dare
you look like that ? Is anybody a-following of you ?
What do you mean? Say something, or I'll be the
death of you, I will."
Mr. Willet, in his frenzy, was so near keeping his
word to the very letter (Solomon Daisy's eyes already
beginning to roll in an alarming manner, and certain
guttural sounds, as of a choking man, to issue from his
throat), that the two by-standers, recovering in some
degree, plucked him off his victim by main force, and
placed the little clerk of Chigwell in a chair. Directing
a fearful gaze all round the room, he implored them in a
faint voice to give him some drink; and above all to
lock the house-door and close and bar the shutters of the
room, without a moment's loss of time. The latter re-
quest did not tend to reassure his hearers, or to fill them
with the most comfortable sensations ; they complied with
it, however, with the greatest expedition ; and having
BARNABY RUDGE.
65
handed him a bumper of brandy-and-water, nearly boil-
ing hot, waited to hear what he might have to tell them.
"Oh, Johnny," said Solomon, shaking him by the
hand. " Oh, Parkes. Oh, Tommy Cobb. Why did
I leave this house to-night! On the nineteenth of
March — of all nights in the year, on the nineteenth
of March!"
They all drew closer to the fire. Parkes, who was
nearest to the door, started and looked over his shoulder.
Mr. Willet, with great indignation, inquired what the
devil he meant by that — and then said, " God forgive
me," and glanced over his own shoulder, and came a
little nearer.
" When I left here to-night," said Solomon Daisy, " I
little thought what day of the month it was. I have
never gone alone into the church after dark on this day,
for seven-and-twenty years. I have heard it said that
as we keep our birthdays when we are alive, so the
ghosts of dead people, who are not easy in their graves,
keep the day they died upon. — How the wind roars ! "
Nobody spoke. All eyes were fastened on Solomon.
" I might have known," he said, " what night it was,
by the foul weather. There's no such night in the whole
year round as this is, always. I never sleep quietly in
my bed on the nineteenth of March."
" Go on," said Tom Cobb, in a low voice. " Nor I
either."
Solomon Daisy raised his glass to his lips; put it
down upon the floor with such a trembling hand that
the spoon tinkled in it like a little bell; and continued
thus : —
" Have I ever said that we are always brought back
to this subject in some strange way, when the nineteenth
vol.. ti. 5
66
BARNABY RUDGE.
of this month comes round ? Do you suppose it was by
accident, I forgot to wind up the church-clock ? I nevpj
forgot it at any other time, though it's such a clumsy
thing that it has to be wound up every day. Why
should it escape my memory on this day of all others?
" I made as much haste down there as J could when I
went from here, but I had to go home first for the keys;
and the wind and rain being dead against me all the
way, it was pretty well as much as I could do at times to
keep my legs. I got there at last, opened the chvirclip
door, and went in. I had not met a soul all the way,
and you may judge whether it was dull or not. Neither
of you would bear me company. If you could have
known what was to come, you'd have been in the right.
"•The wind was so strong, that it was as much as I
could do to shut the church-door by putting my whole
weight against it; and even as it was, it burst wide open
twice, with such strength that any of you would have
sworn, if you had been leaning against it, as I was, that
somebody was pushing on the other side. However, I
got the key turned, went into the belfry, and wound up
the clock — which was very near run down, and would
have stood stock-still in half an hour.
" As I took up my lantern again to leave the church,
it came upon me all at once that this was the nineteenth
of March. It came upon me with a kind of shock, as if
a hand had struck the thought upon my forehead j at the
very same moment, I heard a voice outside the tower 7-
rising from among the graves."
Here old John precipitately interrupted the speaker,
and begged that if Mr. Parkes (who was seated opposite
to him and was staring directly over his Jmad) saw any-
thing, he would have the goodness to mention it. Mr
fiARNABY RtfDGE.
67
Parkes apologized, and remarked that he was only lis-
tening; to which Mr. Willet angrily retorted, that his
listening with that kind of expression in his face was not
agreeable, and that if he couldn't look like other people,
he had better put his pocket-handkerchief over his head.
Mr. Parkes with great submission pledged himself to dp
so, if again required, and John Willet turning to Solomon
desired him t6 'proceed. After waiting until a violent
gust of wind and rain, which seemed to shake even that
sturdy house to its foundation, had passed away, the little
man complied: — '
" Never tell me that it was ray fancy, or that it was
any other sound which I mistook for that I tell you of.
I heard the wind whistle through the arches of the
church. I heard the steeple strain and creak. I heard
the rain as it came driving against the walls. I felt the
bells shake. I saw the ropes sway to and fro. And I
heard that voice."
What did it say ? " asked Tom Cohb.
" I don't know what; I don't know that, it spoke. It
gave a kind of cry, as any one of us might do, if some-
thing dreadful followed us in a dream, and came upon us
unawares; and then it died off: seeming to pass quite
round the church."
u I don't see touch in that," said John, drawing a long
breath, hind looking round 'him like a man who felt re-
lieved.
" Perhaps not," returned his friend, " but that's not
all."
" What more do you mean to say, sir, is to come ? "
asked John, pausing in the act of wiping his face upon
his apron. " What are you a-going to tell us of next ?''
" What I saw."
68
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Saw ! " echoed all three, bending forward.
" When I opened the church-door to come out," said
the little man, with an expression of face which bore
ample testimony to the sincerity of his conviction, u when
I opened the church-door to come out, which I did sud-
denly, for I wanted to get it shut again before another
gust of wind came up, there crossed me — so close, that
by stretching out my finger I could have touched it —
something in the likeness of a man. It was bare-headed
to the storm. It turned its face without stopping, and
fixed its eyes on mine. It was a ghost — a spirit."
..." Whose ? " they all three cried together.
I In the excess of his emotion (for , he fell back trem-
bling in his chair, and waved his hand as if entreating
them to question him no further,) his answer was lost on
all" but old John Willet, who happened to be seated close
beside him.
" Who! " cried Parkes and Tom Cobb, looking eagerly
by turns at Solomon Daisy and at Mr. Willet. u Who
was it?"
" Gentlemen," said Mr. Willet after a long pause,
" you needn't ask. The likeness of a murdered man.
This is the nineteenth of March."
A profound silence ensued.
" If you'll take my advice," said John, " we had
better, one and all, keep this a secret. Such tales
would not be liked at the Warren. Let us keep it
to ourselves for the present time at all events, or we
may get into trouble, and Solomon may lose his place.
Whether it was really as he says, or whether it wasn't,
is no matter. Right or wrong, nobody would believe
him. As to the probabilities, I don't myself think,"
said Mr. Willet, eying the corners of the room in
BARNABY RUDGE.
69
a manner which showed that, like some other philoso-
phers, he was not quite easy in his theory, " that a
ghost as had been a man of sense in his lifetime,
would be out a-walking in such weather—I only know
that I wouldn't-, if I was one." /
But this heretical doctrine was strongly opposed by
the other three, who quoted a great many precedents
to show that bad weather was the very time for such
appearances; and Mr. Parkes (who had had a ghost
in his family, by the mother's side) argued the matter
with so much ingenuity and force of illustration, that
John was only saved from having to retract his opinion
by the opportune appearance of supper,'to which they
applied themselves with a dreadful relish. Even Solo-
mon Daisy himself, by dint of the elevating influences
of fire, lights, brandy, and good company, so far re-
covered as to handle his knife and fork in a highly
creditable manner, and to display a capacity both of
eating and drinking, such as banished all fear of his
having sustained any lasting injury from his fright.
Supper done, they crowded round the fire again, and,
as is common on such occasions, propounded all manner
of leading questions calculated to surround the story
with new horrors and surprises. But Solomon Daisy,
notwithstanding these temptations, adhered so steadily
to his original account, and repeated it so often, with
such slight variations, and with such solemn assevera-
tions of its truth and reality, that his hearers were (with
good reason) more astonished than at first. As he took
John Willet's view of the matter in regard to the pro-
priety of not bruiting the tale abroad, unless the spirit
should appear to him again, in which case it would be
necessary to take immediate counsel with the clergyman,
70
BARNABY RTTDGE.
it was solemnly resolved that it should be hushed up and
kept quiet. And as most men like to have a secret to
tell which may exalt their own importance, they arrived
at this conclusion with perfect unanimity.
As it was by this time growing late, and was lohg past
their usual hour of separating, the cronies parted for the
night. Solomon Daisy, with a fresh candle in his lan-
tern, repaired homewards under the escort of long Phil
Parkes and Mr. Cobb, who were rather more nervous
than himself. Mr. Willet, after seeing them to the door,
returned to collect his thoughts with the assistance of the
boiler, and to listen to the storm of wind and rain, which
had not yet abated one jot of ite fury.
BAKNABY KUfGfc.
71
• • . • f 1 j '■ I . r . ( •
i i 1:1:' ti ) lr . i ' < • ['ii
. I ,i '.i j 'I rl .
l' •*, . I T.»[ [l|« » I | I I I'll.' I /It 1 J *f
11'I f: i ! i • ill ji f ' • i
; } CHAPTER XXXIV. f, j A
".ii 'iii it; ! In f ... n i ,
Bbfode old John had looked at the boiler quite twehty
minutes, be gpt his ideas into a focus, and brought them
to bear upon. Solomon Daisy's story. », The more he
thought of it» the more impressed he became with a
sense of his own wisdom, and » desire that Mr. Haredale
should be impressed with it likewise, . At length, to the
end that be might sustain a. principal and important char-
acter m the affair; and might have the start of Solomon
and Ids two friends, through whose means be knew the
adventure, With a variety of exaggerations, would be
known to at least a score of people, and most likely to
Mr, Haredale himself, by breakfast-time to-morrow 5 be
determined to repair to the Warren before going to bed.
*' He's my landlord," thought John, as be took a candle
in his hand, and setting it down in a corner out of the
wind's way, opened a easement in the rear of the house,
looking towards the stables, * We haven't met of late
years so often as we used to do -tt changes are taking
plaee in the family **- it's desirable that I should stand
as well with them, in point of dignity, as possible n- the
whispering about of this here tale will anger him m it's
good to have confidences with a gentleman of his oatur',
ind set one's self right besides. Halloa there ! Hugh
—rHngh. Hal-loa!"!' 1 • . . . i . '» ,_ it
When he had repeated this shout a dozen times, and
startled every pigeon from its slumbers, a door in opp pf
BARNABY RUDGE.
the ruinous old buildings opened, and a rough voice de-
manded what was amiss now, that a man couldn't even
have his sleep in quiet.
"What! Haven't you sleep enough, growler, that
you're not to be knocked up for once ? " said John.
" No," replied the! Voice, as the speaker yawned and
shook himself. "Not half enough."
"I don't know how you can sleep, with the wind"!-
bellowsing and roaring about you, making the tiles7 fly
like a pack df cards," said John; "but tio matter for
that.> i; Wrap yourself up in something or another, and
come here, fofr you must go as far as the Warren with
me.;' And look sharp about it."''-' * 1 —' t " 1 1
Hugh, With much low growling and muttering, went
back into his lair; and presently reappeared, carrying a
lantern and a' cudgel, and enveloped from head to foot,
in ani old, frowzy, slouching horse-cloth. Mr. Willet
received this figure at the back-door, and ushered him
into the bar, while he wrapped himself in sundry grfeat-
coats and capes, and so tied and knotted his face in
shawls and handkerchiefs, that how he breathed was a
mystery. >
"You don't take a man out of doors at near midnight
in such weather, without patting some heart into him, do
you, master ? " said Hugh. . > ■ •
"Yes I do, sir," returned Mr. Willet. "I pot the
heart (as you call it) into him when he has brought me
safe home again, and his standing steady on his legs a'n't
of so much consequence. So hold that light up, if you
please, and go on a step or two before to show the way."
Hugh obeyed with a very indifferent grace, and a
longing glance at the bottles; Old John, laying strict
injunctions on his cook to keep the doors locked in his
BARNABY BUDGE.
73
absence, and to open to nobody but himself on pain of
dismissal, followed him into the blustering darkness out
of doors. > . • i • • •• •
The way was wet and dismal, arid the night so black,
that if Mr. Willet had been his own pilot, he would have
walked into a deep horse-pond within a few hundred
yards of his own house, and would certainly have termi*
nated his career in that ignoble spliehre-of action. But
Hugh, who had a sight as keen as any hawk's,-and,
apart from that I endowment, could have found his way
blindfold, to any place within a dozen miles, dragged old
John along, quite deaf to his remonstrances, and took his
own course without the slightest reference to, or notice
of, his master., So they made head against the wind as
they best could 5 Hugh crushing the wet grass beneath
his heavy, tread, and stalking on after his ordinary sav-
age fashion; John Willet following at arm's length,
picking bis steps, and looking about him, now for bogs
and ditches, and now for such stray ghosts as might be
wandering abroad, -with looks of as much dismay and
uneasiness as his immovable face was capable of ex-
pressing. I
At length they stood upon the broad gravel-walk be-
fore the Warren-house., The building was profoundly
dark, and none were moving near it save themselves
From one solitary turret-chamber, however, there shone
a ray of light -r and towards this speck of comfort in the
cold, cheerless silent scene, Mr. Willet bade his pilot
lead him.
" The old room," said John, looking timidly upward;
' Mr. Reuben's own apartment, God be with us ! I won-
der. his brother likes to sit there, so late at night — on
this night too." 1 . ] .
74
BARNABY BUDGE.
P Why, where else should he sit ? " asked Hugh, hold-
ing the lantern to his breast, to keep the candle from the
wind, while he trimmed it with his fingers. " It's snug
enough, a'n't it?".1 , , .n-1 . - . • ■ _ • 'I
" Snug isaid John indignantly. I " You have A com-
foftable idea pf snugness, you have, sir. Do you know
what was done in that room, yon radian h <#9
iff Why,. What is it the worse, for that J", eried Hugh,
looking into John's fat face. " Does it keep out the rain,
and snow, and wind, the less for that ? Is it less warm
or dry, because a man was. killed there ? Ha, ha, ha I
Never believe it, master. One man's no suqh matter as
that comes to." ■ >.u i .>.. " I " 1 " «
Mr. Willet fixed his dull eyes on his follower, and
began—r-by a species of inspiration -**■ to think it- just
barely possible that he was something of a dangerous
character, and that it might be advisable to get rid of
him one of these days. • He was too prudent to say any-
thing, with the journey home before him ; and therefore
turned to the iron gate before which this brief dialogue
had passed, and pulled the handle of the bell that hong
beside it. The turret in which the light appeared being
at one corner of the building, and only divided from the
path by one of the garden-walks, upon which this gate
opened, Mr. Haredale threw up the window directly,
and demanded who was there. « 1 * - I f * > ■>
" Begging pardon, sir," said John. * I knew you sat
up late, and made bold to oome round, having a word to
say to you." i. y
" Willet-er is,it not ? " n! 1 i* .nr * i
"Of the Maypole—*at your service, sir." i -1 <
Mr. Haredale closed the window, and withdrew. He
presently appeared at a door in the bottom of the turret, ■
B'ARNABV R0IK5E.
75
and coming across the garden-walk unlocked the gate
and let them in. • hr « ''
" You are a late visitor, Willet. What is the mat-
ter?" «'• ! •> . : • . t ■
"Nothing to speak -of, sir,* said John ; " an idle
tale, I thought you ought to know of j nothing more:"
'"Let your man go forward with the lantern, and
give me your hand. The stairs are crooked and nar-
sow. Gently with yonr light, friend. You swing it
like a censer."' - «i •' ' '
Hugh, who had already reached the turret, held it
more steadily, and ascended first, turning robnd from
time to time to shed its light downward on the steps.
•Mr. Haredale following -next, eyed his lowering 'face
with no great favor; and Hugh, looking down on him,
returned his glances with interest, as they climbed the
winding stair. t f* '" ■ ' 1 ■ • i
It terminated in a little anteroom adjoining -that
from which they had seen the light Mr. Haredale
entered first, and led the way -through it into the lat-
ter chamber, -where he seated himself at a writing-
table from which he had risen when they rang the
ML 1 1 - * ■"
" Come in," he said, beckoning to old John, who
remained bowing at the door. " Not you, friend," he
added hastily to Hugh, who entered also. " Willet,
why do you bring that fellow here?" '
" Why, sir," returned John, elevating his eyebrows,
and lowering his voice to the tone in which the ques-
tion had been asked him, " he's a good guard, you
Bee." • '
" Don't be too sure of that;" said Mr. Haredale, look-
log towards -him ;as he spoke. " I doubt it. 'He lias an
evil eye." . m
76
BARNABY, BUDGE.
" There's no imagination in his eye," returned Mr
Willet, glancing over his shoulder at the organ 'in ques-
tion, "certainly." . p |
" There is no good there, be assured," said Mr. Hare-
dale. * Wait in that little room, friend, and close the
door between us." > , ■
, Hugh shrugged his shoulders, and with a disdainful
look, which showed, either that he had overheard, or
that he guessed the purport of their whispering, did as
he was told. When he was shut out, Mr. Haredale
turned to John, and bade him go on with what he had
to say, but not to speak too loud, for there were quick
ears yonder. i , . r .
Thus cautioned, Mr. Willet, in an oily whisper, recited
all that he had heard and said that night; laying par-
ticular stress upon his own sagacity, upon his great
regard for the family, and upon his solicitude for their
peace of mind and happiness. The 6tory moved his
auditor much more than he had expected. Mr. Hare-
dale often changed his attitude, rose and paced the room,
returned again, desired him to repeat, as nearly as he
could, the very words that Solomon had used, and gave
so many other signs of being disturbed, and ill at ease,
that.even Mr. Willet was surprised.
" You did quite right," he said, at the end of a long
conversation, " to bid them keep this story secret. It
is a foolish fancy on the part of this weak-brained man,
bred in his fears and superstition. But Miss Haredale,
though she would know it to be so, would be disturbed
by it if it reached her ears; it is too nearly connected
with a subject very painful to us all, to be heard
with indifference. You were most prudent, and have
laid me under a great obligation. I thank you very
much."
BARNABY RUDGE.
77
This was equal to John's most sanguine expecta-
tions { but he would have preferred Mr. Haredale's
looking at him when he spoke, as if he really did
thank him, to his walking up and down, speaking by
fits and starts, often stopping with his eyes fixed on
the ground, moving hurriedly oh again, like one dis-
tracted, and seeming almost unconscious of what he
said or did. h -n 1 ' »
This, however, was his manner; and it was so em-
barrassing to John that he sat quite passive for a long
time, not knowing what to do. At length he rose. Mr.
Haredale stared at him for a moment as though he had
quite forgotten his being present, then shook hands with
him and opened the door. Hugh, who was, or feigned
to be, fast asleep on the antechamber floor, sprang up
on their entrance, and throwing his cloak about him,
grasped his- stick and lantern, and prepared to descend
the stairs, i • - . # " -»l *
" Stay," said Mr. Haredale. " Will this man drink?'*
" Drink ! He'd drink the Thames up, if it was
strong enough, sir,"< replied John Willet, *' He'll have
something when he gets home. He's better without it,
now, sir." ' it • ..h h 4 ► n ■
" Nay. Half the distance is done," said1 Hugh.
" What a hard master you are! I shall go home the
better for one glassful, half-way. Come ! "
As John made no reply, Mr. Haredale brought out
a glass of liquor, and gave it to Hugh, who, as he
took it in his hand, threw part of it upon the floor.
" What do you mean by splashing your drink about
a gentleman's house, sir?" said John.
" I'm drinking a toast," Hugh rejoined, holding the
glass above his head, and fixing his eyes on Mr. Hare-
78
BARNABY RUDGE.
dale's face; "a toast to this house and its master." With
that he muttered something to himself and drank the
rest, and setting down the glass preceded them without
another word. »: • • j ? « .• 'I >
John was a good dead scandalized by this observance,
but seeing that Mr. Haredale took little heed of what
Hugh said or did, and' that his thoughts were other*
wise employed, he offered no apology, and went in
silence down the stairs, across the walk, and through
the garden-gate, r, They stopped upon the outer side
for Hugh to hold the light While Mr. Haredale locked
it on the inner; and then John saw with wonder (as
he often afterwards related), that he was very pale, and
that his face had changed' so much and grown so hag-
gard since their entrance,, that he almost seemed Another
man. ■ . < um- ■: . eta
They were in the open road again, and John Willet
was walking on behind his escort, as he had Come,
thinking very steadily of what, he! bad 'just now seen,
when Hugh drew him suddenly aside, and almost at
the same instant threw horsemen swept past -"-"the near-
est brushed his. shoulder even then who, checking
their steeds as suddenly as they could, stood stillj and
waited for their eoming up. r ' .'1
BARNABY BUDGE.
79
tl
■r 1
I I . _|-.l tl . . I ' ! '
' - i f ' ♦ 'r *t ' '«
1 l.f T • J r -1 u i T fj . »I t
CHAPTER XXXV. ' ' "
i S.pi.- rm.riT *(' m .! vi» T
Whbn John Willet saw that the horsemen wheeled
smartly round, and drew up three abreast Iff the narrow
road, waiting for him and his man to join them, it oc-
curred to him with unusual precipitation that they must
be highwaymen-, and had Hugh been'armed with1 a
blunderbuss, in place of his stout cudgel, he would cer-
tainly have ordered him-to fire" it off at a venture, atid
would, while the word of command was obeyed, have
consulted his own personal safety in immediate flight.
Under the circumstances of disadvantage, how^Vet, in
which he and his guard were placed, he deemed it pfu-
dent to adopt a different 6tyle of generalship, and there-
fere whispered his attendant to address them in the most
peaceable and courteous terms. By way of acting up
to the spirit and letter of this fnStrnotlon, Hugh stepped
forward, and flourishing his staff before the very eyes
of the rider nearest to him, demanded roughly what he
and bis fellows meant by so nearly gafloping over them,
and why they scoured the king's highway at that late
hour of night. < f •1 1 ' '* I- " *'"'i ' !•''■' *'' '
The man whom he addressed was beginning an angry
teply in the same strain, when fee was checked by the
horseman in thd centre, who, interposing with an air of
authority, inquired in a somewhat loud but not harsh or
unpleasant voice : i1 ' '
" Pray, is this the London road?"
80
BARNABY EUDGE.
" If you follow it right, it is," replied Hugh roughly.
- Nay, brother," said the same person, " you're but a
churlish Englishman, if Englishman you be — which I
should much doubt but for your tongue. Your compan-
ion, I am sure, will answer me more civilly. How say
you, friend ? " ' ,f ( - I '.J
" I say it is the London road, sir," answered John.
" And I wish," he added in a subdued voice, as he
turned to Hugh, " that you was in any other road, you
vagabond. Are you tired of your life, sir, that you go
a-trying to provoke three great neck-or-nothing chaps,
that could keep on running over us, back'ards and
for'ards, till we was dead, and then take our bodies
up behind 'em, and drown us ten miles off?" , ."Jv
" How far is it to London ?" inquired the same
speaker. a i - . i-
• « Why, from here, sir," answered John, persuasively,
" it's thirteen very easy mile." ■ a
The adjective was thrown in, as an inducement to the
travellers to ride away with all speed ; but instead of
having the desired effect, it elicited from the same
person, the remark, " Thirteen miles !• That's a long
distance!" which was followed by a short pause of in-
decision. 1. . » • 1 * < ' •
i, " Pray," said the gentleman, " are there any inns here-
abouts?" - r i , • '
At the word "inns," John plucked up his spirit in a
surprising manner; his fears rolled off like smoke; all
the landlord stirred Within, him. t
" There are no inns," rejoined Mr. Willet, with a
strong emphasis on the plural number; "but there's a
Inn — one Inn — the Maypole Inn. That's a Inn in-
deed You won't see the like of that Inn often."
BARNABT. RUDGE.
" You keep it perhaps ? " said the horseman, smiling,
i "I do, sir," replied John, greatly wondering how, he
had ,found this put. • , ; • -#» m . '
"And how far is the Maypole from here?"
" About a mile" — John was going to add that it
was the easiest mile in all the world, when ,the;- third
rider, who had hitherto kept a little iu the rear, sud-
denly interposed;—r_ . <■.» ,, .. 1
" And have you one excellent bed, landlord ? Hem !
A bed that yon can recommend—,a bed that you are
sure if well aired — a bed that has been slept in by
some perfectly respectable and unexceptionable per-
son!?' t. ,(l. , ....... *{■ -r
" We don't take in no tagrag and bobtail at our house,
sir," answered John. " And as to the bed itself"—
"Say, as to three beds," interposed the gentleman
who had spoken before; " for we shall want three if
we stay, though my friend only speaks of one.", ■,»
" No, no, my lord; you are too good, you are too
kind,; but your life is of far too much importance to the
nation in these portentous times, to be placed upon a
level with one so useless and so poor as mine. A great
cause, my lord, a mighty cause, depends on you. ' You
are its Reader and its champion, its, advanced guard and
itg van., .It is the cause of our altars and our homes,
our country and our faith. Let me sleep on a chair rf-
the carpet — anywhere. No one will repine if I take
colJ. or. fever,,, Let John Grueby pass the night beneath
the .open sky — no one will repine for him. But forty
; thousand men of this pur island in the wave (exclusive
of. women and children) rivet their eyes and thoughts on
Lord George Gordon and every day, from the rising
up of the sun to the going down of the same, pray for
vol. n. 6
SAKSfABY BtfDGE.
his health and tiger. My lord," said the Speaker, rising
In his Stirrups, " it is A glorious cause, and must not be
forgotten. My lord, it is a mighty cause, and must not
be endangered. My lord, U is a holy cause, and must
not be deserted" ''' '' " u
It it a holy cause," ekclatmed his lordship, lifting Up
his hat with great solemnity.'^ " Athen !*' ' ' " '1
" John Grueby," said the long-winded gentleman, in a
tone of thild reproof, " his lordship said Amen.'" '
" I heard ray lord, sir," said the man; sitting llk^ a
Statue 0*r his horsed 1 ' I 1 - < i '■ ' w*
"And do not you say Amen, likewise?" " . H
To which John Grueby made no reply at all, but sat
looking straight before him. ' '
"Tori surprise me, Grueby ,v said the gentleman. " At
a crisis like the present, when Qtleen Elizabeth, that
maiden monarch, weepS within Her tomb, arid Bloody
Mary with a brow of gloOm and shadow, staHte trium-
phant"^-' - " 1 :. '' 1 " ' - "
"Oh, sir," cried the man, gruffly, * Where's the use Of
talking of Bloody Mary, under sueh circumstances as
the present, when my lord's wet through and tired with
hArd riding? Bet's either go on to London, sir, or
put! up at once 5 Or that unfort'nate Bloody Mary will
have more to answer for and shefs dOne a deal mote
harm in her grave than she ever did In her lifetime,
I believe." ' • ' ■' • 1 " . - 1* ''
By this time Mr. Willet, who had never heard so
many Words spoken together at bne time, or delivered
with such volubility and emphasis ashy the long-winded
gentleman ; and whose brain, being wholly unable to
sustain Or compass them, bad quite given itself up for
lost; recovered so far as to observe that there was
barnaby rudgs.
8?
ample accommodation at the Maypole for all, the party i
good beds; neat wines; excellent entertainment for man
and beasfc; private rooms fop large or small parties; din-
ners dressed upon the shortest notice; choice stabling,
and a lock-up coach-house: and,, in short, to. run over
such recommendatory scraps of language as were painted
up on various .portions of the building, and, which, in the
course of some forty years, he had learnt to: repeat with
tolerable correctness. He was considering whether it
was at all possible to insert any novel sentences to the
same purposev when the gentleman who had spoken first,
turning to, him of the long wind, exclaimed, What say
you, Ga&bford ? Shall we tarry at this house he speaks
of, or press forward ? You shall decide." - ' , ,i.
" I would submit, ray lord, then," returned the person
he appealed to, in a, silky tone, " that your health and
spirits,.— so important under Providence, to our great
cause, our pure and truthful cause " — here his lordship
pulled off his hat again, though it was raining hard —
" require refreshment and repose." . > . u.
" Go on before, landlord, and show the way,? Said
Lord George Gordon; " we will follow all a footpace."
•" If you'll give me leave, my lord," said John Grue-
by, in a low voice, <( I'll change my proper place, and
ride before you. The looks of the landlord's friend are
not over honest, and it may he as well to be cautious
with him." > ...I; i.. it i ,».
" John Grueby is quite right," interposed; Mr. Gash-
ford, falling back hastily, n" My lord, a life so precious
as yours must not be put in peril. Go forward, John,
by all means. If you have any reason to suspect the
fellow, blow his brains out," I
John made no answer, but looking straight before him,
84
BAKNABY BUDGE.
as his custom seemed to be when the secretary spoke
bade Hugh push on, and followed close behind him.
Then came his lordship, with Mr. Willet at his bridle
rein ; and, last of all, his lordship's secretary — for that,
it seemed, was Gashford'6 office. - ■ - g 1
Hugh strode briskly on, often looking back at the
servant, whose horse was close upon bis heels, and
glancing with a leer at his holster case of pistols, by
which he seemed to set great store. He was a square-
built, strong-made, bull-necked fellow, of the true Eng-
lish breed; and as Hugh measured him with his eye,
he measured Hugh, regarding him meanwhile with a
look of bluff disdain. He was much older than the May-
pole man, being to all appearance five-and-forty ; but was
one of those self-possessed, hard-headed, imperturbable
fellows, who, if they ever are beat at fisticuffs, or other
kind of warfare, never know it, and go on coolly till
they win. '•
"If I led you wrong now," said Hugh, tauntingly,
" you'd — ha, ha, ha ! — you'd shoot me through the
head, I suppose." 1
John Grueby took no more notice of this remark
than if he had been deaf and Hugh dumb; but kept
riding on, quite comfortably, with his eyes fixed on the
horizon. • t ' i ' ''» '
" Did you ever try a fall with a man when you were
young, master ? " said Hugh. " Can you make any play
at singlestick ? " ,
John Grueby looked at him sideways with the same
contented air, but deigned not a word in answer^ '
— f Like this ? " said Hugh, giving his cudgel one of
those skilful flourishes, in which the rustic of that time
delighted. "Whoop!" <
BABNABY BUDGE.
85
—- Or that," returned John Grueby, beating down
his guard witli his whip, and striking him on the head
with its butt end. "Yes, I played a little once. You
wear your hair too Jong; I should have cracked your
crown if it had been a little shorter." ■ .
It was a pretty smart, loud-sounding rap as it was,
and evidently astonished Hugh ; who, for the moment
seemed disposed to drag bis new acquaintance from his
saddle. But his face betokening neither malice, triumph,
rage, nor any lingering idea that he had given him of-
fence; his eyes gazing steadily in the old direction, and
his manner being as careless and composed as if be had
merely brushed away a fly ; Hugh was so puzzled, and
so disposed to look upon him as a customer of almost
supernatural toughness, that he merely laughed, and
cried " Well done! "then, sheering off a little, led the
way in silence.
Before the lapse of many minutes the party halted
at the Maypole door, Lord George and his secretary
quickly dismounting, gave their horses to their servant,
who, under the guidance of Hugh, repaired to the sta-
bles. Bight glad to escape from the inclemency of the
night, they followed Mr. Willet into the common room,
and stood warming themselves and drying their clothes
before the cheerful fire, while he busied himself with
such orders and preparations as his guest's high quality
required. . „ j • ■ , ,
As he bustled in and out of the room, intent on these
arrangements,'he had an opportunity of observing the
two travellers, of whom, as yet, he knew nothing but the
mice. The lord, the great personage, who did the Mayr
pole so much honor, was about the middle height, of a
slender make, and sallow complexion, with an aquiline
BABNABY BUDGE.
nose and long hair of a reddish brown, combed perfectly
straight and smooth about his ears, and slightly pow-
dered, but without the faintest vestige of a; curl. He
was attired, under his great coat, in a full suit of black,
quite free from any ornament, and of the most precise
and sober cut. The gravity of his dress, together with
a certain lankness of cheek and stiffness of deportment,
added nearly ten years to his age, but his figure was that
of one not yet past thirty* As he stood musing in the
red glow of the fire, it was striking to observe his very
bright large eye, which betrayed a restlessness of thought
and purpose, singularly at variance with the studied com-
posure and sobriety of his mien, and with his quaint and
sad apparel. It had nothing harsh or eruel in its expres-
sion ; neither had his face, which was thin and mild, and
wore an air of melancholy; hut it was suggesti ve of an
indefinable uneasiness, which infected those who looked
upon him, and filled them with a kind of pity for the
man: though why it did so, they would have had some
trouble to explain, . i._ _ i m . - „
Gashford, the • secretary, was taller, angularly made,
high-shouldered, bony, and ungraceful. His dress, in
imitation of his superior, was demure and staid in the
extreme ;< his manner, formal and constrained. This
gentleman had an overhanging brow), great hands and
feet and ears, and a pair of eyes that seemed to have
made an unnatural retreat into his head, and to have dug
themselves a Cave to hide' in. His manner was smooth
and humble, but very sly and slinking. 'He wore the
aspect of a man who was always lying in wait fix* soma-
thing that wouldn't come to pass; but he looked) patient
—-very patient—* and fawned like a spaniel dog. Evea
now, while he warmed and rubbed his hands before the
BARNABX Rt-'ME.
87
blaze, he had the air of one who only presumed to enjoy
it in his degree as a commoner; and though he knew his
lord Was not regarding hint, he looked into his face from
time to time, and, with: a meek and deferential manner,
smiled as if for practice. »!•! l*P | % ' I • *» » H*
Sueh were the guests whom old John Willet, with a
fixed and leadert eye, surveyed a hundred times, and to
whom he now advanced, With a state candlestick in each
hand, beseeching them to follow him into a worthier
chamber. " For my lord," said John — it is odd'enough
hat certain people' seem, to have as great a pleasure in
pronouncing titles as their owners have in wearing them
■=—"this room, my lord, isn't at all'the sort of place for
yobr lordship, and I hive to beg ytmr lordship's pardon
for keeping you here, my lord, one minute."' - ' > 1
With this address, John ushered them up-stairs into
<he state apartment, which, like many other things of
state, was cold and comfortless. Their own footsteps, ne-
verberating through the spacious room, struck upon their
hearing with a hollow sdtind; and its damp and' chilly
atmosphere was rendered doubly cheerless by contrast
with the homely warmth ■ they had deserted, ■■in-. i-'i w
It was of no use, however, to propose a return to the
place they had quitted, for die preparations went on so
briskly that there was no time toi stop- them. John, with
die tall candlesticks in his hands, bowed them up fo the
fireplace; Hugh, striding in with a lighted brand and
pile of fire-wood, Cast it down upon the hearth, and set
!t in a blaze ; John Grtreby (who bad a great blue cock-
ade in his hat, Which he appeared to despise mightily)
brought iri the portmanteau he had carried on bis borse,
and placed it on the floor; and presently all three were
busily engaged in drawing out the screen, laying the
88
BARNABY RUDGE.
cloth, inspecting the beds, lighting fires in ;the bedrooms,
expediting the supper, and making everything as cosey
and as snug as might be, on so short a notice. In less
than an hour's time, supper had been served, and ate,
and cleared away; and Lord George and his secretary
with slippered feet and legs stretched out before the-fire,
sat over some hot mulled wine together. i,
" So ends, my lord," said Gashford, filling his glass
with great complacency, " the blessed work of q. most
blessed day." . f «;# r u 't:--
" And of a blessed yesterday," said his lordship, rais-
ing his head. • , ■ m
' "Ah!"—and here the secretary clasped his hands —
"ablessed yesterday indeed! . The. Protestants of Suf-
.oik are godly men and true. Though others of our
countrymen have lost their way in darkness, even as
we, my lord, did lose our road to-night, theirs is the light
and glory." .1 t,i {.„ |1 , . .. ,,
" Did I move them, Gashford ? " said Lord George.,
" Move them, my lord! i Move them !, They cried to
be led on against the Papists, they, vowed a dreadful
vengeance on their heads, they roared like men pos-
eessed" — $ pi. .>» .. >,»!.• t ,
P But not by devils," said his lord, if,.! . •: a
!; " By devils! my lord I <■, By angels." , ;,| j \ \ h\
Yes—. oh surely — by angels, no doubt," .said Lord
George, thrusting bis hands into his pockets, taking them
out again to bite his nails, and looking uncomfortably at
the fire. " Of course by angels — eh Gashford ? " ,
" You do not doubt it, my lord ? " said the secretary.
"No —No," returned his lord. "No. Why should
I ? I suppose it would be decidedly irreligious to doubt
it—wouldn't it, Gashford? Though there certainly
BARNABY RUDGE.
89
were," he added, without waiting for an answer, " some
plaguy ill-looking characters among them." a < *
tfWhen you warmed," said the secretary, looking
sharply at the other's downcast eyes, which brightened
slowly as he spoke; when you warmed into that noble
outbreak : whed you told them that you were never of
the lukewarm or the timid tribe, and bade them take
heed that they were prepared to follow bne who would
lead them on, though to the very death; when you spoke
of a hundred and tweftty thousand men across the Scot-
tish border who would take their own redress at any
time, if it were not conceded ; when you cried 4 Perish
the i Pope and all his base adherents; the penal laws
against them shall never be repealed while Englishmen
have hearts and hands'—and waved your own and
touched your sword; arid when they cried ' No Pop-
ery!' and you cried ' No; not even if we wade in blood,'
and :they threw up their hats and cried 4 Hurrah ! not
even if we wade in blood ; No Popery! Lord George!
Down with the Papists — Vengeance on their heads;'
whenithis was said and done, and a word from you, my
lord, could raise or still the tumult — ah ! then I felt
what greatness was indeed, and thought, When was
there ever power like this of Lord George Gordon's!"
f -f-It's a.; great power. You're right.,nit is .a great
power!" he cried with sparkling ■pyw.-.itfr.But —hdear
Gashford — did I really say all that?".! ><« •
, r " And bow much more !*" cried the secretary, looking
jpwards. 44 Ah I how much more!":- . > ™ a* r
44 And I told them what you say, about the one hun-
dred and forty thousand men in Scotland, did I !" he
asked with evident delight.. j44 That was bold." > *
44 Our cause is boldness. Truth is always bold."
90
BARNABY BUDGE.
" Certainly. Sofa religion. She's bold, Gash ford ? *
" The true religion is, my lord."
** And that's ours," he Tejoined, moving uneasily irt his
seat, and biting his nails as though be would pare them
to the quick. <u There can be no doubt of ours being
the true one. You feel as certaih of that as I do Gash-
ford, don't you P'l"' * t 1 if fi <> « '-"'I
| „<* Does my lord ask me," whined Gashford, drawing his
chair nearer with an injured air, and laying Ms broad
flat hand upon the table; " me'' he repeated, bending the
dark hollows of his eyes upon Him with an unwholesome
smile, •" who, stricken by the magic of his eloquence in
Scotland but a year ago, abjured the errors of the: Rom-
ish church, and clung to him as one whose timely hand
had plucked me from a pit ?" -f r ' n r > ii
** True. 1 No—No.!' I — I didn't mean it," replied
the other, shaking him by the bund, rising from' his
seat, and 'pacing restlessly about the room. " Itfa a
proud thing ito lead the people, Gasbford," he added
as he made a sudden half.— " " I >' "■
"By force of reason too;" returned the pliant seere-
tary. i »»• — li'wni! -ill b:ii t> • 't 111.<«> l> (
" Aj,'io be sure. They may cough, and jeer; and
groan in Parliament, add call me fool and madman, but
which of them can raise this human sea and make it
sw«H and roar «t pleasure ? Nor one." ■1 '
" No one," repeated Gasbfbrd, 1" 1 1 > —
• Which of them can say for his honesty, what'I can
say for mine; which of them has refused a -minister's
bribe of one thousand pounds a'year, to resign his seat
in favor of another? Not one." • ■ l« pr
" Not one," repeated Gashford again -— taking the
lion's share of the mulled wine between whiles.11 '*
JiAENABY RUDGE,
91
" And as we are honest, true, and in a sacred cause,
Gashford," said: Lord George with a heightened; color
and in a louder voice, as he laid his fevered hand upon
his shoulder, " and! are the only men Who- regard the mass
of people out of doors, or are regarded by them, wet Will
uphold them to the last; and will raise a ery against
these un-English Papists which shall reecho through
the country, and roll with a noise like thunder. I will
be worthy of the motto on my coat of arms, ' Called
andi chosen and faithful.'" i. ,I> >.>•!/ .
Called," said the secretary, "by Heaven." i a ■
" I am." '. r i . >>' o ; , M
■" Chosen by the people." ' t* t >n •
"Yes." '1 1 ! '• i ■ 1 » . *1 VI
" Faithful to both." 1 ■ ;i
" To the block !" t it. ,
It would be difficult to convey an adequate idea of the
excited manner in which he gave these answers to the
secretary's promptings ;< of the rapidity of his utterance,
or the violence of his tone and gesture; in; which, strug-
gKng through his Puritan's demeanor, was something
wild and ungovernable which broke through all restraint.
For some minutes he walked rapidly up amd down the
room, then stopping suddenly, exclaimed, •" < ■
is" Gkshfords— low moved them yesterday too. Gh
yes! You didi" }■>- > I.. ,-t \i 1 ■ g' ^
" I shone With a reflected light, my lord," replied the
humble secretary, laying his hand upon his heart. " I
did my best" ■ "■> « ■- 1*1» <
" You did well," said his master, " and are a great and
worthy instrument If you will ring for John Grueby
to carry the portmanteau into my room, and will wait
here while I undress, we will dispose of business as
tsual, if you're not too tired."
92
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Too tired, my lord ! — But this is his consideration !
Christian from head to foot." With which soliloquy, the
secretary tilted the jug, and looked very hard into the
mulled wine, to see how much remained.
John Willet and John Grueby appeared together
The one bearing the great candlesticks, and the other
the portmanteau, showed the deluded lord into his cham-
ber; and left the secretary alone, to yawn and shake
himself, and finally, to fall asleep before the fire. > »
" Now Mr. Gashford, sir," said John Grueby in his
ear, after what appeared to him a moment of unoon-
sciousness ; " ray lord's abed."
" Oh. Very good, John," was his mild reply. "Thank
you, John. Nobody need sit up. I know my room."
" I hope you're not a-going to trouble your head to-
night, or my lord's head neither, with anything more
about Bloody Mary," said John. " I wish the blessed
old creetur had never been born." '
" I said you might go to bed, John," returned the sec-
retary. " You didn't hear me, I think." I.
" Between Bloody Marys, and blue cockades, and glo-
rious Queen Besses, and no Poperys, and Protestant
associations, and making of speeches," pursued John
Grueby, looking, as usual, a long way off, and taking no
notice of this hint, " my lord's half off his head. When
we go out o' doors, such a set of ragamuffins comes a-
shouting after us ' Gordon forever!' that I'm ashamed
of myself, and don't know where to look. When we're
in-doors, they come a-roaring and screaming about the
house like so many devils 5 and my lord instead of or-
dering them to be drove away, goes out into the balcony
and demeans himself by making speeches to 'em, and
ealls 'em ' Men of England,' and ' Fellow-countrymen,'
BARNABY RUDGE.
93
as if he was fond of 'em and thanked 'em for coming.
I can't make it out, but they're all mixed up somehow or
another with that unfort'nate Bloody Mary, and call her
name out till they're hoarse. They're all Protestants
too — every man and boy among 'em : and Protestants
is very fond of spoons I find, and - silver plate in general,
whenever area-gates is left open accidentally. I wish
that was the worst of it, and that no more harm migh
be to come; but if you don't stop these ugly customers
in time, Mr. Gashford (and I know you ; you're the
man that blows the fire), you'll find 'em grow a little bit
too strong for you. One of these evenings, when the
weather gets warmer and Protestants are thirsty, they'll
be pulling London down, — and I never heerd that
Bloody Mary went as far as that."
Gashford had vanished long ago, and these remarks
had been bestowed on empty air. Not at all discom-
posed by the discovery, John Grueby fixed his hat on,
wrong side foremost, that he might be unconscious of
the shadow of the obnoxious cockade, and withdrew to
bed ; shaking his head in a very gloomy and prophetic
manner until he reached his chamber.
94
BAENABY BUDGE.
/ • I 1 * . - t ' ' M ' 1
p- i -ii
• I
1 fl ' . ' • ' ' . ' ' '
. <j , CHAPTER XXXVI. t
'i j ' , . r • - -i ' «
Gashjfobd, with a smiling face, but still with looks of
profound deference and humility, betook himself towards
his masters room, smoothing his hair down as he went,
and humming a psalm tune. As be approached Lord
George's door, he cleared his throat, and hummed more
vigorously, i ' '< ■ ■» ■* > >■ ' '
There was -a (remarkable contrast between this man's
occupation at the moment, and the expression of his
countenance, which was singularly repubive and mali-
cious. His beetling brow almost obscured his eyes ; his
iip was curled contemptuously his very shoulders
seemed to sneer in stealthy whisperings with his great
flapped ears. u « > * > '
44 Hush 1" he muttered softly, as he peeped in at the
chamber-door. ? He seems ito fee asleep. Pray Heaven
he is ! Too much watching, too much care, too much
thought—ah !♦ Lord preserve him for a martyr! He
is a saint, if ever saint drew breath on this bad earth."
Placing his light upon a table, he walked on tiptoe to
(lie fire, and sitting in a chair before it with his back tow-
ards the bed, went on communing with himself like one
who thought aloud:
"The saviour of his country and his country's religion,
the friend of his poor countrymen, the enemy of the
proud and harsh ; beloved of the rejected and oppressed,
adored by forty thousand bold and loyal English hearts
BARKABY RUDGE.
— what happy slumbers his shoold be ! " And here he
sighed, and warmed his hands, and shook his bead as
men do when their hearts are full, and heaved another
sigh, and warmed his hands again. i. < ' t •' 1
rt? Why, Gashferd ? " -said Xmrd George, who was lying
broad awake upon'his side, and had beep staring at him
from his entrance. 1 • .in > • n - n t ' •/« . >
" My «— my lord," said Gash ford, starting and looking
round as though id great surprise. "I have disturbed
you!",iini i 7'jir , u'.n.i J - .i i'l A > » |.,c- .'!«» 1'
— I have sot been sleeping." i Irf i 1 **• 1 . i ; » |
"Not sleeping!" he repeated, with assumed confusion.
" What can I say< for having in your presence given' lit-
terance to thoughts — but. they were sincerethey
were sincere l"t exclaimed the secretary, drawing 'his
sleeve in a hasty way. across bis eyes, " and why should
I regret your having heard them ?" ■ 4 *1'
" Gashford," said the pood lord, stretching out-"'-his
hand with manifest emotion. " Do not regret it. You
love me well, I know — too well. I don't deserve such
homage." u & • « m 1 . 1 " »«*•
Gashford made no reply, but graced the hand and
pressed it to his lips. Then rising, and taking from the
trunk a little, desk, be placed it on a table near the Arc,
unlocked k with a key he carried in his pocket, eat
down before it, took out a pen, and, before dipping it
in the inkstand, sucked it—Jo compose the fashion
of his mouth perhaps, on which a smile was hovering
yet. i i •>
"How do oar: numbers stand since last enrolling-
night P " inquired Lard George. "Are we really forty
thousand strong, or do we still speak in round numbers
when we take the Association at that amount?"
BAKNABY KUDUE.
t Our total now exceeds that number by a score and
three." Gashford replied, casting his eyes upon his pa-
pers. j i . • iii' >
"The funds?" >. ' •
" Not very improving; but there is some manna in
the wilderness, my lord. Hem 1 On Friday night the
widows' mites dropped in. ' Forty scavengers, three-
and-fourpenee. ,1 An aged pew-opener of St. Martin's
parish, sixpence., ■ A bell-ringer of the established
church, sixpence. A Protestant infant, newly born, one
halfpenny. The United Link Boys, three shillings —
one bad. The anti-popish prisoners in Newgate, dive
and fourpence. A friend in Bedlam, half-a-crown.
Dennis the hangman, one shilling.' . i >>;
" That Dennis," said his lordship, " is an earnest man.
I marked him .in the crowd in Welbeck Street, last
Friday." ..i • t ■
"A good man," rejoined the secretary j. " a stanch,
sincere, and truly zealous man." >, . ,
" He should be encouraged," said Lord George.
" Make a note of Dennis. I'll talk with him."
Gashford obeyed, and went on reading from his
list S—TT. • I 'I
" '-The Friends of Reason, half-a-guinea. The Friends
of Liberty, half-a-guinea. The Friends of Peace, half-
a-guinea. The Friends of Charity, half-a-guinea. The
Friends of Mercy, half-a-guinea. The Associated Re-
memberers of Bloody Mary, half-a-guinea. The United
Bull-Dogs, half-a-guinea.'"
." The United Bull-Dogs," said Lord George, biting
his nails most horribly, "are a new society, are they
not ?" . »
" Formerly the 'Prentice Knights, my lord. The in-
BARNABY RUDGE.
97
dentures of the old members expiring by degrees, they
changed their name, it seems, though they still have
'prentices among them, as well as workmen."
" What is their president's name ?" inquired Lord
George. ' ',ir,f 111 ' 1,1 ' 1
"President," said Gashford, reading, "Mr. Simon
Tappertit-'*"11'111 n ,J ' ."•* ' '• •
"I remember him. The little man. who sometimes
brings "an elderly5 sister "to our meetings, and sometimes
another female too, who is conscientious, I have no doubt,
but not well-favored ? " . i! *"
" The very same, my lord." ": ' '' 1 1
"Tappertit is' art" earnest man," said Lord George
thoughtfully.1' «Eh, Gashford?" " "•"P 1
"One of the foremost among thdm all, my lotd. He
snuffs the ' battle 'from afar, like the war-horse.' He
throws'his hat up in the Street as if he were inspired,
and makes most stirring'speeches from the shoulders of
his friends.""'
" Make a note of Tappertit," said Lord George Gor-
don. "We may advance him to a place of trust."
"That," rejoined the secretary, doing as he was told,
"is all —except Mrs. Yarden's box (fourteenth time of
opening), sevteri shillings and sixpence in silver and cop-
per, and half-a-guinea in gold; and Miggs (being the
saving of a quarter's wages), one-and-threepence."
" Mfggs," said Lord George. " Is that a man ?"
"The name is entered on the list as a woman," re-
. 1 1 | _ , . f' \
plied the secretary " I think she is the tall spare female
of whom you spoke just now, my lord, as not being well-
favored, who sometimes comes to hear the speeches —
along with Tappertit and Mrs. Varden."
"Mrs. Varden is the elderly lady, then, is she!"
voi.. n. 7
98
JiVKN'AM' K4JIHtJK,
The secretary nodded, and rubbed the bridge of his
nose with the feather of his pen. , • ., ,» { .. ,■
" She is a zealous sister," said I*>rd George. ."Hoi.
collection goes on prosperously, and is pursued with fier-
vor. Has her husband joined ?" .
"A malignant," returned the secretary, folding up hi*
papers. " Unworthy such a wife. He remains in outer
darkness, and steadily-refuses."(! j- „ -f fc 11M. 1-
The consequences be upon his own head I t- Crash-
ford I j( ^ ( j „ lf - ii *» t in1 u « 11 !i i • »l i' 1
"My lord!" «■ . i , ' f| ,
"You don't think," he turned restlessly in his hed as
he spoke, "these people will desert, me, when the hour
arrives ? I have spoken boldly Sor tbpm, ventured much,
suppressed nothing. „ .They'll pot fall off, will they 2 "(»••
u. jNo fear of that my lord,", said Gaabford, with a
meaning look, whiph was rather the iovplunfary cypres-
sion of bis own thoughts than intended as any confirms-
tion of his words, for the other's face was turned away,
" Be sure there is no fear of that," |- ,,, ., \r
"Nor," he said with a more restless motion than be-
font* " of their — but they can sustain no harm from
leaguing for this purpose. Bight is on OUT side, though
Might may be against us. You feel as sure of that as I
— honestly, you do?" , , t . ( . i
The secretary was beginning with "You do net
doubt," when the other interrupted him, and impatiently
rejoined:— . ,i !
" Doubt. No, Who says I doubt? ..If J doubted,
should I cast away relatives, friends, everything, for this
unhappy country's sake; this unhappy country," he eried,
springing up in bed, after repeating the phrase " UO-
happy country's sake " to himself at least a dozen times.
BARNABY RUDGE.
99
"forsaken of God and man, delivered over to a danger-
ous confederacy of Popish powers ; the prey of corrop-
tion, idolatry, and despotism! Who says I doubt ? Am
I called, and chosen, and faithful P Tell me. Am 1, or
am I not?'* [».*:«. ,, f s
"To God, the country, and yourself," cried Gashford.
"I am. I will be. I say again, 1 will be: to the
block. Who says as much ! Do you ? Does any man
alive?'" ■ t ■ > t i *
The secretary drooped his bead -with an expression of
perfect acquiescence in anything that had been said or
might be? and Lord George gradually sinking down
upon his pillow, fell asleep.
Although there was something very ludicrous in his
vehement imaitaer, taken in conjunction with bis meagre
aspect and ungraceful presence, h would scarcely have
provoked a smile in iany man of kindly Feeling; or even
if it had, he would have felt sorry and almost angry with
himself next moment, for yielding to the impulse. This
lord was sincere in his violence and in his wavering. A
nature prone to false entbusiasm, and the vanity of being
a leader, were the worst qualities apparent in his compo-
sition. All the rest was weakness — sheer weakness ;
and it is the unhappy lot of thoroughly weak men, that
their very sympathies, affections, confidences — all the
qualities which in better-constituted minds are virtues —
dwindle into foibles, or turn into downright vices.
Gashford, with many a sly look towards the bed, sat
chuckling at his master's folly, until his deep and heavy
breathing warned him that he might retire. Locking his
desk, and replacing it within the trunk (but not before
he had taken from a secret lining two printed handbills),
he cautiously withdrew; looking back, as he went, at the
100
BARNABY RUDGE.
pale face of the slumbering man, above whose head the
dusty plumes that crowned the Maypole couch, waved
drearily and sadly as though it were a bier.
Stopping on the staircase to listen that all was quiet,
and to take off his shoes lest his footsteps should alarm
any light sleeper who might be near at hand, he de-
scended to the ground floor, and thrust one of his bills
beneath the great door of the house. That done, he
crept softly back to his own chamber, and from the win-
dow let another fall — carefully wrapped round a stone
to save it from the wind — into the yard below.
They were addressed on the back "To every Prot-
estant into whose hands this shall come," and bore within
what follows:— . i • l >
" Men and Brethren. Whoever shall find this letter,
will take it as a warning to join, without delay, the
friends of Lord George Gordon. There are great events
at hand; and the times are dangerous and troubled.
Read this carefully, keep it clean, and drop it somewhere
else. For King and Country. Union."
" More seed, more seed," said Gashford as he closed
the window. " When will the harvest come 1"
BAENABY BUDGE. 101
CHAPTER XXXVII.
To surround anything, however monstrous or ridic-
ulous, with an air of mystery, is to invest it with a secret
charm, and power of attraction which to the crowd is
irresistible. False priests, false prophets, false doctors,
false patriots, false prodigies of every kind, veiling their
proceedings in mystery, have always addressed them-
selves at an immense advantage to the popular eredulity,
and have been, perhaps, more indebted to that resource
in gaining and keeping for a time the upper hand of
Truth and Common Sense, than to any half-dozen items
in the whole catalogue of imposture. Curiosity is, and
has been from the creation of the world, a master-pas-
sion. To awaken it, to gratify it by slight degrees, and
yet leave something always in suspense, is to establish
the surest hold that can be had, in wrong, on the un-
thinking portion of mankind.
If a man had stood on London Bridge, calling till he
was hoarse, upon the passers-by, to join with Lord
George Gordon, although for an object which no man
understood, and which in that very incident had a charm
of its own, — the probability is, that he might have in-
(luenccd a score of people in a month. If all zealous
Protestants had been publicly urged to join an associa-
tion for the avowed purpose of singing a hymn or two
occasionally, and hearing some indifferent speeches made,
and ultimately of petitioning Parliament not to pass an
102
BAENABY RUDGE.
act for abolishing the penal laws against Roman Catholic
priests, the penalty of perpetual imprisonment denounced
against those who educated children in that persuasion,
and the disqualification of all members of the Romish
church to inherit real property in the United Kingdom
by right of purchase or descent, — matters so far re-
moved from the business and bosoms of the mass, might
perhaps have called together a hundred people. But
when vague rumors got abroad, that in this Protestant
association a secret power was mustering against the gov
ernment for undefined and mighty purposes; when the
air was filled with whispers of a confederacy among the
Popish powers to degrade and enslave England, establish
an inquisition in London, and turn the pens of Smithfield
market into stakes and caldrons; when terrors and
alarms which no man understood were perpetually
broached, both in and out of Parliament, by one enthu-
siast who did not understand himself, and bygone bug-
bears which had lain quietly in their graves for cen-
turies, were raised again to haunt the ignorant and
credulous; when all this was done, as it were, in the
dark, and secret invitations to join the Great Protestant
Association in defence of religion, life, and liberty, were
dropped in the public ways, thrust under the house-doors,
tossed in at windows, and pressed into the hands of those
who trod the streets by night; when they glared from
every wall, and shone on every post and pillar, so that
stocks and stones appeared infected with the common
fear, urging all men to join together blindfold in resist-
ance of they knew not what, they knew not why; —
then the mania spread indeed, and the body, still increas-
ing every day, grew forty thousand strong.
So said, at least, in this month of March, 1780, Lord
BARNABY RUDGE.
103
George Gordon, the Association's president Whether
it was the fact or otherwise, few men knew, or cared to
ascertain. It had never made any public demonstration;
had scarcely ever been heard of, save through him ; had
never been seen; and was supposed by many to be the
mere creature of his disordered brain. He was accus-
tomed to talk largely about numbers of men — stimu-
lated, as it was inferred, by certain successful disturb-
ances, arising out of the same subject, which had occurred
in Scotland in the previous year; was looked upon as a
cracked-brained member of the lower house, who at-
tacked all parties and sided with none, and was very
little regarded. It was known that there was discontent
abroad ■— there always is; he had been accustomed to
address the people by placard, speech, and pamphlet,
upon other questionsnothing had come, in England,
of his past exertions, and nothing was apprehended
from his present. Just as he has come upon the reader,
he had come, from time to time, upon the public, and
been forgotten in a day; as suddenly as he appears in
these pages, after a blank of five long years, did he and
his proceedings begin to force themselves, about this
period, upon the notice of thousands of people, who had
mingled in active life during the whole interval, and
who, without being deaf or blind to passing events, had
scarcely ever thought of him before.
" My lord," said Gashford in his ear, as he drew the
curtains of his bed betimes ; " my lord! "
* " Yes — who's that ? What is it ? "
"The clock has struck pine," returned the secretary,
with meekly folded hands, ft You have slept well? "I
hope you have slept well ? If my prayers are heard,
you are refreshed indeed."
BAKNABY BUDGE.
" To say the truth, I have slept so soundly," said Lord
George, rubbing his eyes and looking round the room,
" that I don't remember quite — what place is this ? "
" My lord!" cried Gashford, with a smile.
. " Oh !" returned his superior. " Yes. You're not a
Jew then ? "
, "A Jew 1" exclaimed the pious secretary, recoiling
" I dreamed that we were Jews, Gashford. You and
J. — both of us — Jews with long beards."
" Heaven forbid, my lord! We might as well be
Papists."
" I suppose we might," returned the other, very
quickly. "Eh? You really think so, Gashford?"
" Surely I do," the secretary cried, with looks of
great surprise.
" Humph !" he muttered. " Yes that seems reason
able."
" I hope my lord " — the secretary begaB.
, "Hope!" he eohoed, interrupting him. "Why do
you say, you hope ? There's no harm in thinking of
such things."
" Not in dreams," returned the secretary.
" In dreams! No, nor waking either."
J —"' Called, and chosen, and faithful,'" said Gash-
ford, taking up Lord George's watch which lay upon
a chair, and seeming to read the inscription on the
seal, abstractedly. i
It was the slightest action possible, not obtruded on
his notice, and apparently the result of a moment's ab-
sence of mind, not worth remark. But as the words
were uttered, Lord George, who had been going on
impetuously, stopped short, reddened, and was silent
Apparently quite unconscious of this change in his do-
BARNABY BUDGE.
105
meanor, the wily secretary stepped a little apart, under
pretence of pulling up the window-blind, and returning,
when the other had had time to recover, said : —
"The holy cause goes bravely on, my lord. I was
not idle, even last night. I dropped two of the hand-
bills before I went to bed, and both are gone this morn-
img. Nobody in the house has mentioned the circum-
stance of finding them, though I have been down-stairs
fall half an hour. One or two recruits will be their first
fruit, I predict; and who shall say how many more, with
Heaven's blessing on your inspired exertions! "
"It was a famous device in the beginning," replied
Lord George; " an excellent device, and did good ser-
vice in Scotland. It was quite worthy of you. You
remind me not to be a sluggard, Gashfoi-d, when the vine-
yard is menaced with destruction, and may be trodden
down by Papist feet. Let the horses be saddled in half
an hour. We must be up and doing ! "
He said this with a heightened color, and in a tone of
such enthusiasm, that the secretary deemed all further
prompting needless, and withdrew.
— " Dreamed he was a Jew," he said thoughtfully, as
he closed the bedroom door. " He may come to that be-
fore he dies. It's like enough. Well! After a time,
and provided I lost nothing by it, I don't see why that
religion shouldn't suit me as well as any other. There
are rich men among the Jews ; shaving is very trouble-
some; — yes, it would suit me well enough. For the
present, though, we must be Christian to the core. Our
prophetic motto will suit all creeds in their turn, that's a
"omfort." Reflecting on this source of consolation, he
reached the sitting-room, and rang the bell for break-
fast.
106
BARNABY RUDGE.
Lord George was quickly dressed (for his plain toilet
was easily made), and as he was no less frugal in his
repasts than in his Puritan attire, his share of the meal
was soon despatched. The secretary, however, more de-
voted to the good things of this world, or more intent on
sustaining his strength and spirits for the sake of the
Protestant cause, ate and drank to the last minute, and
required indeed some three or four reminders from John
Grueby, before he could resolve to tear himself away
from Mr. Willet's plentiful providing.
At length he came down-stairs, wiping his greasy
mouth, and having paid John Willet's bill, climbed into
his saddle. Lord George, who had been walking up and
down before the house talking to himself with earnest
gestures, mounted his horse; and returning old John
Willet's stately bow, as well as the parting salutation of
a dozen idlers whom the rumor of a live lord being
about to leave the Maypole had gathered round the
porch, they rode away, with stout John Grueby in the
rear.
If Lord George Gordon had appeared in the eyes of
Mr. Willet, overnight, a nobleman of somewhat quaint
and odd exterior, the impression was confirmed this
morning, and increased a hundred-fold. Sitting bolt
upright upon his bony steed, with his long, straight hair,
dangling about his face and fluttering in the wind; hie
limbs all angular and rigid, his elbows stuck out on
either side ungracefully, and his whole frame jogged and
shaken at every motion of his horse's feet; a more gro-
tesque or more ungainly figure can hardly be conceived.
In lieu of whip, he carried in his hand a great gold-
headed cane, as large as any footman carries in these
days ; and his various modes of holding this unwieldy
BARNABY RUDGE.
107
weapon — now upright before his face like the sabre of
a horse-soldier, now over his shoulder like a musket, now
between his finger and thumb, but always in some un-
couth and awkward fashion — contributed in no small
degree to the absurdity of his appearance. Stiff", lank,
and solemn, dressed in an unusual manner, and osten-
tatiously exhibiting—whether by design or accident —
all his peculiarities of carriage, gesture, and conduct; all
the qualities, natural and artificial, in which he differed
from other men; he might have moved the sternest
looker-on to laughter, and fully provoked the smiles and
whispered jests which greeted his departure from the
Maypole inn.
Quite unconscious, however, of the effect he produced,
he trotted on beside his secretary, talking to himself
nearly all the way, until they came within a mile or two
of London, when now and then some passenger went by
who knew him by sight, and pointed him out to some
one else, and perhaps stook looking after him, or cried
in jest or earnest as it might be, " Hurrah Geordie ! No
Popery !" At which he would gravely pull off his hat,
and bow. When they reached the town and rode along
the streets, these notices became more frequent; some
laughed, some hissed, some turned their heads and
smiled, some wondered who he was, some ran along
the pavement by his side and cheered. When this
happened in a crush of carts and chairs and coaches,
he would make a dead stop, and pulling off his hat,
cry, " Gentlemen, No Popery !'' to which the gentle-
men would respond with lusty voices, and with three
times three; and then, on he would go again with a
score or so of the raggedest, following at his horse's
heels, and shouting till their throats were parched.
108
BAKNABY RUDGE.
The old ladies too — there were a great many old
ladies in the streets, and these all knew him. Some of
them — not those of the highest rank, but such as sold
fruit from baskets and carried burdens — clapped their
shrivelled hands, and raised a weazen, piping, shrill
" Hurrah, my lord." Others waved their hands or hand-
kerchiefs, or shook their fans or parasols, or threw up
windows and called in haste to those within, to come and
see. All these marks of popular esteem, he received
with profound gravity and respect; bowing very low,
and so frequently that his hat was more off his head
than on; and looking up at the houses as he passed
along, with the air of one who was making a public
entry, and yet was not puffed-up or proud.
So they rode (to the deep and unspeakable disgust of
John Grueby) the whole length of Whitechapel, Lead-
enhall-street, and Cheapside, and into Saint Paul's
Church-yard. Arriving close to the cathedral, he halted;
spoke to Gashford; and looking upward at its lofty
dome, shook his head, as though he said " The Church
in Danger! " Then to be sure, the by-standers stretched
their throats indeed; and he went on again with mighty
acclamations from the mob, and lower bows than ever.
So along the Strand, up Swallow-street, into the Ox-
ford-road, and thence to his house in Welbeck-street,
near Cavendish-square, whither he was attended by a
few dozen idlers; of whom he took leave on the steps
with this brief parting, " Gentlemen, No Popery. Good-,
day. God bless you." This being rather a shorter ad-
dress than they expected, was received with some dis-
pleasure, and cries of " A speech! a speech !" which
might have been complied with, but that John Grueby,
making a mad charge upon them with all three horses,
BARNABY RUDGE.
109
on his way to the stables, caused them to disperse rate
the adjoining fields, where they presently fell to pitch
and toss, chuck-farthing, odd or even, dog-fighting, and
other Protestant recreations.
In the afternoon Lord George came forth again,
dressed in a black velvet coat, and trousers and waist-
coat of the Gordon plaid, all of the same Quaker cut;
and in this costume, which made him look a dozen times
more strange and singular than before, went down on
foot to Westminster. Gashford, meanwhile, bestirred
himself in business matters; with which he was still en-
gaged when, shortly after dusk, John Grueby entered
and announced a visitor.
" Let him come in," said Gashford.
" Here! come in i " growled John to somebody with-
out;*"You're a Protestant, a'n't you?"
" I should think so," replied a deep, gruff voice.
" You've the looks of it," said John Grueby. " I'd
have known you for one anywhere." With which re-
mark he gave the visitor admission, retired, and shut the
door.
The man who now confronted Gashford, was a squat,
thick-set personage, with a low retreating forehead, a
coarse shock head of hair, and eyes so small and near
together, that his broken nose alone seemed to prevent
their meeting and fusing into one of the usual size. A
dingy handkerchief twisted like a cord about his neck,
left its great veins exposed to view, and they were swol-
len and starting, as though with gulping down strong
passions, malice, and ill-will. His dress was of thread-
bare velveteen — a faded, rusty, whitened black, like the
ashes of a pipe or a coal-fire after a day's extinction;
discolored with the soils of many a stale debauch, and
110
BAKNABY RUDGE.
reeking yet with pot-house odors. In lieu of buckles at
his knees, he wore unequal loops of packthread; and in
his grimy hands he held a knotted stick, the knob of
which was carved into a rough likeness of his own vile
face. Such was the visitor who doffed his three-cornered
hat in Gashford's presence, and waited, leering, for hi
notice.
" Ah ! Dennis !" cried the secretary. " Sit down."
" I see my lord down yonder " — cried the man, with
a jerk of his thumb towards the quarter that he spoke
of, " and be says to me, says my lord, ' If you've nothing
to do, Dennis, go up to my house, and talk with Muster
Gashford.' Of course I'd nothing to do, you know.
These a'n't my working hours. Ha, ha! I was a-taking
the air when I see my lord, that's what I was doing. I
takes the air by night, as the howls does, Muster Gash-
ford."
" And sometimes in the daytime, eh? " said the secre-
tary — " when you go out in state you know."
" Ha, ha ! " roared the fellow, smiting his leg; " for a
gentleman as 'ull say a pleasant thing in a pleasant way,
give me Muster Gashford agin' all London and West-
minster! My lord a'n't a bad 'un at that, but he's a fool
to you. Ah to be sure, —when I go out in state."
" And have your carriage," said the secretary; " and
your chaplain, eh ? and all the rest of it ? "
" You'll be the death of me," cried Dennis, with an-
other roar, " you will. But what's in the wind now,
Muster Gashford." he asked hoarsely. " Eh ? Are we
to be under orders to pull down one of them Popish
chapels — or what ? "
" Hush!" said the secretary, suffering the faintest
smile to play upon his face. " Hush ! God bless me, Den-
BARNABY BUDGE.
nis I We associate, you know, for strictly peaceable and
lawful purposes."
" 1 know, bless you," returned the man, thrusting his
tongue into his cheek ; " I entered a* purpose, didn't I!"
" No doubt," said Gashford, smiling as before. And
when he said so, Dennis roared again, and smote his leg
still harder, and falling into fits of laughter, wiped hi6
eyes with the corner of his neckerchief, and cried, " Mus-
ter Gashford agin' all England hollow !"
" Lord George and I were talking of you last night,"
said Gashford, after a pause. " He says you are a very
earnest fellow."
" So I am," returned the hangman.
" And that you truly hate the Papists."
" So I do," and he confirmed it with a good round
oath. " Lookye here, Muster Gashford," said the fel-
low, laying his hat and stick upon the floor, and slowly
beating the palm of one hand with the fingers of the
other. " Ob-serve. I'm a constitutional officer that
works for my living, and does my work creditable. Do
I, or do I not ? "
" Unquestionably."
" Very good. Stop a minute. My work is sound,
Protestant, constitutional, English work. Is it, or is it
not ? "
" No man alive can doubt it."
" Nor dead neither. Parliament says this here —
says Parliament,' If any man, woman, or child does any-
thing which goes again a certain number of our acts'
how many hanging laws may there be at this presen
time. Muster Gashford? Fifty?"
" I don't exactly know how many," replied Gashford,
leaning back in his chair and yawning; " a great num-
ber though."
BARNABY BUDGB.
" Well; say fifty. Parliament says, ' If any man,
woman, or child does anything again any one of them
fifty acts, that man, woman, or child shall be worked off
by Dennis.' George the Third steps in when they num-
ber very strong at the end of a sessions, and says
' These are too many for Dennis. I'll have half for my
self and Dennis shall have half for htmse]f;' and some-
times he throws me in one over that I don't expect, as
he did three years ago, when I got Mary Jones, a young
woman of nineteen who come up to Tyburn with a in-
fant at her breast, and was worked off" for taking a piece
of cloth off the counter of a shop in Ludgate-hill, and
putting it down again when the shopman see her; and
who had never done any harm before, and only tried to
do that, in consequence of her husband having been
pressed three weeks previous, and she being left to beg.
with two young children — as was proved upon the trial.
Ha, ha! — Well! That being the law and the practice
of England, is the glory of England, a'n't it, Muster
Gashford?"
" Certainly," said the secretary.
" And in times to come," pursued the hangman, " if
our grandsons should think of their grandfathers' times,
and find these things altered, they'll say, < Those were
days indeed, and we've been going down hill ever since.'
— Won't they, Muster Gashford ? "
" I have no doubt they will," said the secretary. '
" Well then, look here," said the hangman. " If thes
Papists gets into power, and begins to boil and roast in-
stead of hang, what becomes of my work! If they
touch my work, that's a part of so many laws, what be-
comes of the laws in general, what becomes of the relig-
ion, what becomes of the country ! — Did you ever go
to church, Muster Gashford ? "
BARNABY HEDGE.
" Ever! " repeated the secretary with some indigna-
tion ; " of course."
" Well," said tlie ruffian, " I've been once — twice,
counting the time I was christened — and when I heard
the Parliament prayed for, and thought how many new
hanging laws they made every sessions, I considered thatf
I was prayed for. Now mind, Muster Gashford," said
the fellow, taking up his stick and shaking it with a ffero-
cious air, " I mustn't have my Protestant work touched,
nor this here Protestant state of things altered in no
degree, if I can help it; I mustn't have no Papists in*
terfering with me, unless they come to me to be worked
.off in course of law ; I mustn't have no biling, no roast-
ing, no frying—nothing but hanging. My lord may
well eall me an earnest fellow. In support of the great.
Protestant principle of having plenty of that, I'll," and
here he beat his club upon the ground, " burn, fight, kill
— do anything you bid me, so that it's bold and devilish
— though the end of it was, that I got hung myself. —
There, Muster Gashford!"
He appropriately followed up this frequent prostitu-
tion of a noble word to the vilest purposes, by pouring
out in a kind of ecstasy, at least a score of most tre-
mepdous oaths; then wiped his heated face upon his
neckerchief, and cried, " No Popery! I'm a religious
man, by G—!"
Gashford had leant back in his chair, regarding him
with eyes so sunken, and so shadowed by bis heavy
brows, that for aught tlte hangman saw of them, he
might have been stone blind. He remained smiling in
silence for a short time longer, and then said, slowly and
distinctly: —
" You are indeed an earnest fellow, Dennis a most
voi,. ii. 8
114
BARNABY RUDGE.
valuable fellow — the stanchest man I know of in our
ranks. But you must calm yourself; you must be
peaceful, lawful, mild as any lamb. I am sure you will
be though."
" Ay, ay, we shall see, Muster Gashford, we shall see.
You won't have to complain of me," returned the other,
shaking his head.
"I am sure I shall not," said the secretary in the
same mild tone, and with the same emphasis. " We
shall have, we think, about next month or May, when
this Papist relief bill comes before the house, to con-
vene our whole body for the first time. My lord has
thoughts of our walking in procession through the
streets—just as an innocent display of strength — and
accompanying our petition down to the door of the
House of Commons."
" The sooner the better," said Dennis with another
oath.
" We shall have to draw up in divisions, our nura-
bers being so large ; and, I believe, I may venture to
say," resumed Gashford, affecting not to hear the in-
terruption, " though I have no direct instructions to
that effect — that Lord George has thought of you as
an excellent leader for one of these parties. I have
no doubt you would be an admirable one."
" Try me," said the fellow, with an ugly wink.
"You would be cool, I know," pursued the secre-
tary, still smiling, and still managing his eyes, so that he
could watch him closely, and really not be seen in
turn, " obedient to orders, and perfectly temperate.
You would lead your party into no danger I am cer-
tain."
"I'd lead them, Muster Gashford" — the hangman
* f /
BARNABY RUDGE.
115
was beginning in a reckless way, when Gashford started
forward, laid his finger on his lips, and feigned to write,
just as the door was opened by John Grueby.
" Oh!" said John, looking in ; " here's another Protes-
tant."
" Some other room, John," cried Gashford in hia
blandest voice. " I am engaged just now."
But John had brought this new visitor to the door,
and he walked in unbidden, as the words were uttered;
giving to view the form and features, rough attire, and
reckless air, of Hugh.
U«
baknabY kudgf.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The secretary put his hand before his eyes to shade
them from the glare of the lamp, and for some moments
looked at Hugh with a frowning brow, as if be remem-
bered to have seen him lately, but could not call to mind
where, or on what occasion. His uncertainty was very
brief, for before Hugh had spoken a word, he said, as his
countenance cleared up : —
" Ay, ay, I recollect. It's quite right, John, you
needn't wait. Don't go, Dennis."
" Your servant, master," said Hugh, as Grueby dis-
appeared.
" Yours friend," returned the secretary in his smooth-
est manner. " What brings you here ? We left nothing
behind us, I hope ? "
Hugh gave a short laugh, and thrusting his hand
into his breast, produced one of the handbills, soiled
and dirty from lying out of doors all night, which he
laid upon the secretary's desk after flattening it upon
his knee, and smoothing out the wrinkles with his
heavy palm.
" Nothing but that, master. It fell into good hands,
you see."
" What is this ! " said Gashford, turning it over with
an air of perfectly natural surprise. " Where did you
get it from, my good fellow; what does it mean ? I
don't understand this at all."
BARNABY RUDGE.
117
A Httle disconcerted by this reception, Hugh looked
from the secretary to Dennis, who had risen and was
standing at the table too, observing the stranger by
stealth, and seeming to derive the utmost satisfaction
from his manners and appearance. Considering himself
silently appealed to by this action, Mr. ■ Dennis shook
his head thrice, as if to say of Gashford, " No. He
don't know anything at all about it. I know he don't.
I'll take my oath he don't;" and hiding his profile, from
Hugh with one long end of his frowzy neckerchief, nod-
ded and chuckled behind this screen in extreme approval
of the secretary's proceedings.
• It tells the man that finds it, to come here, don't
it ?" asked Hugh. " I'm no scholar, myself, but I
showed it to a friend, and he said it did."
" It certainly does," said Gashford, opening his eyes
to their utmost width ; " really this is the most remark-
able circumstance I have ever known. How did you
come by this piece of paper, my good friend ?"
" Muster Gashford," wheezed the hangman under his
breath, " agin' all Newgate !" 1
Whether Hugh heard him, or saw by his manner that
he was being played upon, or perceived the secretary's
drift of himself, he came in his blunt way to the point
at once.
" Here !" he said, stretching out his hand and taking
it back; " never mind the bill, or what it says, or
what it don't say. You don't know anything about it,
'master, — no more do I, — no more does he," glancing
at Dennis. " None of us know what it means, or where
it comes from ; there's an end of that. Now I want
to make one against the Catholics, I'm a No-Popery
man, and ready to be sworn in. That's what I've come
here for."
118
BAENABT BUDGE.
« Put him down on the roll, Muster Gashford," said
Dennis approvingly. " That's the way to go to work —
right to the end at once, and no palaver."
" What's the use of shooting wide of the mark, eh,
old boy!" cried Hugh.
" My sentiments all over!" rejoined the hangman.
" This is the sort of chap for my division, Muster
Gashford. Down with him, sir. Put him on the roll.
I'd stand godfather to him, if he was to be christened
in a bonfire, made of the ruins of the Bank of Eng-
land."
With these and other expressions of confidence of
the like flattering kind, Mr. Dennis gave him a hearty
slap on the back, which Hugh was not slow to re-
turn.
" No Popery, brother! " cried the hangman.
" No Property, brother! " responded Hugh.
" Popery, Popery," said the secretary with his usual
mildness.
" It's all the same !" cried Dennis. " It's all right.
Down with him, Muster Gashford. Down with every-
body, down with everything! Hurrah for the Prot-
estant religion 1 That's the time of day, Muster Gash-
ford!"
The secretary regarded them both with a very favor-
able expression of countenance, while they gave loose
to these and other demonstrations of their patriotic pur-
pose; and was about to make some remark aloud, when
Dennis, stepping up to him, and shading his mouth with
his hand, said, in a hoarse whisper, as he nudged him
with his elbow : —
" Don't split upon a constitutional officer's profes-
sion, Muster Gashford. There are popular preju-
BARNABY BUDGE.
119
dices, you know, and he mightn't like it Wait till
he comes to be more intimate with me. He's a fine-
built chap, a'n't he?"
" A powerful fellow indeed ! "
" Did you ever, Muster Gashford," whispered Dennis,
with a horrible kind of admiration, such as that with
which a cannibal might regard his intimate friend,
when hungry, — "did you ever" — and here he drew
still closer to his ear, and fenced his mouth with both
his open hands—"see such a throat as his? Do but
cast your eye upon it. There's a neck for stretching,
Muster Gashford ! " »
The secretary assented to this proposition with the
best grace he could assume — it is difficult to feign a
true professional relish: which is eccentric sometimes
— and after asking the candidate a few unimportant
questions, proceeded to enroll him a member of the
Great Protestant Association of England. If anything
could have exceeded Mr. Dennis's joy on the happy
conclusion of this ceremony, it would have been the
rapture with which he received the announcement that
the new member could neither read nor write: those
two arts being (as Mr. Dennis swore) the greatest
possible curse a civilized community could know, and
militating more against the professional emoluments and
usefulness of the great constitutional office he had th6
honor to hold, than any adverse circumstances that could
present themselves to his imagination.
The enrolment being completed, and Hugh having
been informed by Gashford, in his peculiar manner, of
the peaceful and strictly lawful objects contemplated by
the body to which he now belonged — during which re-
cital Mr. Dennis nudged him very much with his elbow,
12<»
BABNABY RUDGE.
and made divers remarkable faces — the secretary gave
them both to understand that he desired to be alone.
Therefore they took their leaves without delay, and came
out of the house together.
" Are you walking, brother ?" said Dennis. . . I
"Ay!" returned Hugh. "Where you will." m
" That's social," said his new friend. " Which way
shall we take ? Shall we go and have a look at doors
that we shall make a pretty good clattering at, before
long — eh, brother ? " I
Hugh answered in the affirmative, they went slowly
down to Westminster, where both houses of Parlia-
ment were then sitting. Mingling in the crowd of
carriages, horses, servants, chairmen, link-boys, por-
ters, and idlers of all kinds, they lounged about;
while Hugh's new friend pointed out to him signifi-
cantly the weak parts of the building, how easy it was
to get into the lobby, and so to the very door of the
House of Commons; and how plainly, when they
marched down there in grand array, their roars and
shouts would be heard by the members inside; with a
great deal more to the same purpose, all of which Hugh
received with manifest delight.
He told him, too, who some of the Lords and Com»
mons were, by name, as they came in and out; whether
they were friendly to the Papists or otherwise; and bade
him take notice of their liveries and equipages, that he
might be sure of them, in case of need. Sometimes he
drew him close to the windows of a passing carriage,
that he might see its master's face by the light of the
lamps; and, both in respect >f people and localities, he
showed so much acquaintance with everything around,
that it was plain he had often studied there before; as
BARNABT KUDGE.
121
indeed, when they grew a little more confidential, he
confessed he had.
Perhaps the most striking part of all this was, the
number of people — never in groups of more than
two or three together — who seemed to be skulking
about the crowd for the same purpose. To the greatei
part of these, a slight nod or a look from Hugh's com-
panion was sufficient greeting; but now and then, some
man would come and stand beside him in the throng,
and, without turning his head or appearing to eommu-
nicate with him, would say a word or two in a low
voice, which he would answer in the same cautious
manner. Then they would part like strangers. Some
of these men often reappeared again unexpectedly
in the crowd close to Hugh, and, as they passed by,
pressed his hand, or looked him sternly in the face;
but they never spoke to him, nor he to them ; no, not a
word.
It was remarkable, too, that whenever they happened
to stand where there was any press of people, and Hugh
chanced to be looking downward, he was sure to see an
arm stretched out — under his own perhaps, or perhaps
across him — which thrust some paper into the hand or
pocket of a by-stander, and was so suddenly withdrawn
that it was impossible to tell from whom it came ; nor
could he see in any face, on glancing quickly round,
the least confusion or surprise. They often trod upon
a paper like the one he carried in his breast, but his
companion whispered him not to touch it or to take it
up, — not even to look towards it, — so there they let
them lie, and passed on.
When they had paraded the street and all the ave-
nues of the building in this manner for near two hours,
122
BARNABY BUDGE.
they turned away, and his friend asked him what he
thought of what he had seen, and whether he was
prepared for a good hot piece of work if it should
come to that. " The hotter the better," said Hugh,
«I'm prepared for anything." — " So am I," said his
friend, " and so are many of us ;" and they shook hands
upon it with a great oath, and with many terrible impre-
cations on the Papists.
As they were thirsty by this time, Dennis proposed
that they should repair together to The Boot, where
there was good company and strong liquor. Hugh
yielding a ready assent, they bent their steps that way
with no loss of time.
This Boot was a lone house of public entertainment,
situated in the fields at the back of the Foundling Hos-
pital; a very solitary spot at that period, and quite de-
serted after dark. The tavern stood at some distance
from any high road, and was approachable only by a
dark and narrow lane ; so that Hugh was much sur-
prised to find several people drinking there, and great
merriment going on. He was still more surprised to
find among them almost every face that had caught
his attention in the crowd ; but his companion having
whispered him outside the door, that it was not con-
sidered good manners at The Boot to appear at all
curious about the company, he kept his own counsel,
ind made no show of recognition.
Before putting his lips to the liquor which was
brought for them, Dennis drank in a loud voice the
health of Lord George Gordon, President of the Great
Protestant Association; which toast Hugh pledged like-
wise, with corresponding enthusiasm. A fiddler who
was present, and who appeared to act as the appointed
BARNABY RUDGE.
123
minstrel of the company, forthwith struck up a Scotch
reel; and that in tones so invigorating, that Hugh and
his friend (who had both been drinking before) rose
from their seats as by previous concert, and to the
great admiration of the assembled guests, performed
an extemporaneous No-Popery Dance.
124
BARNABY BUDGE.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
The applause which the performance of Hugh and
his new friend elicited from the company at The Boot,
had not yet subsided, and the two dancers were still
panting from their exertions, which had been of a rather
extreme and violent character, when the party was
reinforced by the arrival of some more guests, who,
being a detachment of United Bulldogs, were received
with very flattering marks of distinction and respect.
The leader of this small party — for, including him-
self, they were but three in number — was our old ac-
quaintance, Mr. Tappertit, who seemed, physically speak-
ing, to have grown smaller with years (particularly as to
his legs, which were stupendously little), but who, in a
moral point of view, in personal dignity and self-esteem,
had swelled into a giant. Nor was it by any means
difficult for the most unobservant person to detect this
state of feeling in the quondam 'Prentice, for it not only
proclaimed itself impressively and beyond mistake in his
majestic walk and kindling eye, but found a striking
means of revelation in his turned-up nose, which scouted
all things of earth with deep disdain, and sought com-
munion with its kindred skies.
Mr. Tappertit, as chief or captain of the Bulldogs,
was attended by his two lieutenants; one, the tall com-
rade of his younger life ; the other, a 'Prentice Knight
in days of yore — Mark Gilbert, bound in the olden
BARNABY RUDGE.
125
time to Thomas Curzon of the Golden Fleece. These
gentlemen, like himself, were now emancipated from
their 'Prentice thraldom, and served as journeymen £ but
they were, in humble emulation of his great example,
bold and daring spirits, and aspired to a distinguished
state in great political events. Hence their connection
with the Protestant Association of England, sanctioned
by the name of Lord George Gordon ; and hence their
present visit to The Boot.
" Gentlemen ! " said Mr. Tappertit, taking off his hat
as a great general might in addressing his troops. " Well
met. My lord does me and you the honor to send his
compliments per self."
" You've seen my lord too, have you ? " said Dennis.
"/ see him this afternoon."
" My duty called me to the Lobby when our shop
shut up; and I saw him there, sir," Mr. Tappertit re-
plied, as he and his lieutenants took their seats. " How
do you do?" -
" Lively, master, lively," said the fellow. " Here's
a new brother, regularly put down in black and white
by Muster Gashford; a credit to the cause; one of the
stick-at-nothing sort; one arter my own heart. D'ye
see him ? Has he got the looks of a man that'll do,
do you think ?" he cried, as he slapped Hugh on the
back.
" Looks or no looks," said Hugh, with a drunken flour
isli of his arm, " I'm the man you want. I hate the
Papists, every one of 'em. They hate me and I hate
them. They do me all the harm they can, and I'll do
them all the barm 1 can. Hurrah I"
" Was there ever." said Dennis, looking round the
room, when the echo of his boisterous voice had died
126
BAKNABY BUDGE.
away { " was there ever such a game boy! Why, 1
mean to say, brothers, that if Muster Gashford had gone
a hundred mile and got together fifty men of the com-
mon run, they wouldn't have been worth this one."
The greater part of the company implicitly subscribed
to this opinion, and testified their faith in Hugh, by
nods and looks of great significance. Mr. Tappertit sat
and contemplated him for a long time in silence, as if he
suspended his judgment; then drew a little nearer to
him, and eyed him over more carefully ; then went close
up to him, and took him apart into a dark corner.
" I say," he began, with a thoughtful brow, " haven't
I seen you before ? "
" It's like you may," said Hugh, in his careless way.
"I don't know; shouldn't wonder."
" No, but it's very easily settled," returned Sim.
"Look at me. Did you ever see me before? You
wouldn't be likely to forget it, you know, if you ever
did. Look at me. Don't be afraid ; I won't do you
any harm. Take a good look — steady now."
The encouraging way in which Mr. Tappertit made
this request, and coupled it with an assurance that he
needn't be frightened, amused Hugh mightily — so much
indeed, that he saw nothing at all of the small man
before him, through closing his eyes in a fit of hearty
laughter, which shook his great broad sides until they
ached again.
" Come !" said Mr. Tappertit, growing a little impa-
lient under this disrespectful treatment. " Do you know
me, feller ? "
" Not I," cried Hugh. " Ha, ha, ha ! Not I! But I
should like to."
" And yet I'd have wagered a seven-shilling piece,"
IlAllNAUY liUUGK.
said Mr. Tappertit, folding his arms, and confronting
him with his legs wide apart and firmly planted on
the ground, " that you once were hostler at the May-
pole."
Hugh opened his eyes on hearing this, and looked at
him in great surprise.
—" And so you were, too," said Mr. Tappertit,
pushing him away, with a condescending playfulness.
"When did my eyes ever deceive — unless it was a
young woman ! Don't you know me now ? '
"Why it a'n't"— Hugh faltered.
" A'n't it ? " said Mr. Tappertit. " Are you sure of
that? You remember G. Varden, don't you?"
Certainly Hugh did, and he remembered D. Yarden
too; but that he didn't tell him.
" You remember coming down there, before I was
out of my time, to ask after a vagabond that had bolted
off, and left his disconsolate father a prey to the bit-
terest emotions, and all the rest of it — don't you ? "
said Mr. Tappertit.
" Of course I do! " cried Hugh. " And I saw you
there." ' 1 1
" Saw me there!" said Mr. Tappertit. " Yes, I should
think you did see me there. The place would be troub-
led to go on without me. Don't you remember my
thinking you liked the vagabond, and on that account
going to quarrel with you ; and then finding you de-
tested him worse than poison, going to drink with you ?
Don't you remember that ? "
" To be sure ! " cried Hugh.
" Well! and are you in the same mind now ? " said
Mr. Tappertit.
" Yes 1" roared Hugh.
128
BARNABY RUDGE.
" You speak like a man," said Mr. Tappertit, " aD<!
I'll shake hands with you." With these conciliatory
expressions he suited the action to the word ; and Hugh
meeting his advances readily, they performed the cere-
mony with a show of great heartiness.
" I find," said Mr. Tappertit, looking round on the
assembled guests, " that brother What's-his-name and I
are old acquaintance.— You never heard anything more
of that rascal, I suppose, eh ? "
" Not a syllable," replied Hugh. " I never want
to. I don't believe I ever shall. He's dead long ago,
I hope."
" It's to be hoped, for the sake of mankind in gen-
eral and the happiness of society, that he is," said Mr.
Tappertit, rubbing his palm upon his legs, and looking
at it between whiles. " Is your other hand at all
cleaner ? Much the same. Well, I'll owe you another
shake. We'll suppose it done, if you've no objection."
Hugh laughed again, and with such thorough aban-
donment to his mad humor, that his limbs seemed dis-
located, and his whole frame in danger of tumbling to
pieces ; but Mr. Tappertit, so far from receiving this
extreme merriment with any irritation, was pleased to
regard it with the utmost favor, and even to join in it, so
far as one of his gravity and station could, with any
regard to that decency and decorum which men in high
places are expected to maintain.
Mr. Tappertit did not stop here, as many public char-
ncters might have done, but calling up his brace of lieu-
tenants, introduced Hugh to them with high commenda-
tion : declaring him to be a man who, at such times as
hose in which they lived, could not be too much cher-
ished. Further, he did him the honor to remark, that
BARNABY BUDGE.
129
he would be an acquisition of which even the United
Bulldogs might be proud; and finding, upon sounding
him, that he was quite ready and willing to enter the
society (for he was not at all particular, and would have
leagued himself that night with anything, or anybody,
for any purpose whatsoever), caused the necessary pre-
liminaries to be gone into upon the spot. This tribute
to his great merit delighted no man more than Mr. Den-
nis, as he himself proclaimed with several rare and sur-
prising oaths; and indeed it gave unmingled satisfaction
to the whole assembly.
" Make anything you like of me ! " cried Hugh, flour-
ishing the can he had emptied more than once. " Put
me on any duty you please. I'm your man. I'll do it.
Here's my captain — here's my leader. Ha, ha, ha!
Let him give me the word of command, and I'll fight the
whole Parliament House single-handed, or set a lighted
torch to the King's Throne itself ! With that, he smote
Mr. Tappertit on the back with such violence that his
little body seemed to shrink into a mere nothing; and
roared again until the very foundlings near at hand were
startled in their beds.
I In fact, a sense of something whimsical in their com-
panionship seemed to have taken entire possession of his
rude brain. The bare fact of being patronized by a
great man whom he could have crushed with one hand,
appeared in his eyes so eccentric and humorous, that a
kind of ferocious merriment gained the mastery over
him, and quite subdued his brutal nature. He roared
and roared again; toasted Mr. Tappertit a hundred
times; declared himself a Bulldog to the core; and
Vowed to be faithful to him to the last drop of blood
in bis veins.
vol. ii. 9
130
BARNABY BUDGE.
All these compliments Mr. Tappertit received as mat-
ters of course — flattering enough in their way, but
entirely attributable to his vast superiority. His digni-
fled self-possession only delighted Hugh the more; and
in a word, this giant and dwarf struck up a friendship
which bade fair to be of long continuance, as the one
held it to be his right to command, and the other con-
sidered it an exquisite pleasantry to obey. Nor was
Hugh by any means a passive follower, who scrupled to
act without precise and definite orders; for when Mr.
Tappertit mounted on an empty cask which stood by
way of rostrum in the room, and volunteered a speech
upon the alarming crisis then at hand, he placed himself
beside the orator, and though he grinned from ear to ear
at every word he said, threw out such expressive hints
to scoffers in the management of his cudgel, that those
who were at first the most disposed to interrupt, became
remarkably attentive, and were the loudest in their ap-
probation. 1
It was not all noise and jest, however, at The Boot,
nor were the whole party listeners to the speech. There
were some men at the other end of the room (which was
a long, low-roofed chamber) in earnest conversation all
the time; and when any of this group went out, fresh
people were sure to come in soon afterwards and sit
down in their places, as though the others had relieved
them on some watch or duty; which it was pretty clear
they did, for these changes took place by the clock, at
intervals of half an hour. These persons whispered
very much among themselves, and kept aloof, and often
looked round, as jealous of their speech being overheard;
some two or three among them entered in books what
seemed to be reports from the others ; when they were
BARNABY RUDGE.
131
not thus employed, one of them would turn to the news-
papers which were strewn upon the table, and from the
St. James's Chronicle, the Herald, Chronicle, or Public
Advertiser, would read to the rest in a low voice some
passage having reference to the topic in which they were
all so deeply interested. But the great attraction was a
pamphlet called The Thunderer, which espoused their
own opinions, and was supposed at that time to emanate
directly from the Association. This was always in re-
quest; and whether read aloud, to an eager knot of
listeners, or by some solitary man, was certain to be
followed by stormy talking and excited looks.
In the midst of all his merriment, and admiration of
his captain, Hugh was made sensible by these and other
tokens, of the presence of an air of mystery, akin to
that which had so much impressed him out of doors. It
was impossible to discard a sense that something serious
was going on, and that under the noisy revel of the
public-house, there lurked unseen and dangerous matter.
Little affected by this, however, he was perfectly satisfied
with his quarters, and would have remained there till
morning, but that his conductor rose soon after midnight,
to go home; Mr. Tappertit following his example, left
him no excuse to stay. So they all three left the house
together: roaring a No-Popery song until the fields re-
sounded with the dismal noise.
" Cheer up, captain !" cried Hugh, when they had
roared themselves out of breath. " Another stave!"
Mr. Tappertit, nothing loath, began again; and so the
three went staggering on, arm-in-arm, shouting like mad-
men, and defying the watch with great valor. Indeed
this did not require any unusual bravery or boldness, as
the watchmen of that time, being selected for the office
132
BAHNABY BUDGE.
on account of excessive age and extraordinary infirmity,
had a custom of shutting themselves up tight in their
boxes on the first symptoms of disturbance, and remain'
ing there until they disappeared. In these proceedings,
Mr. Dennis, who had a gruff voice and lungs of consider-
able power, distinguished himself very much, and ac-
quired great credit with his two companions. •
" What a queer fellow you are !" said Mr. Tappertit.
" You're so precious sly and close. Why don't you ever
tell what trade you're of ? "
* Answer the captain instantly," cried Hugh, beating
his hat down on his head; " why don't you ever tell
what trade you're of ? " '
" I'm of as gen-teel a calling, brother, as any man in
England — as light a business as any gentleman could
desire."
" Was you 'prenticed to it ? " asked Mr. Tappertit.
" No. Natural genius," said Mr. Dennis. " No 'pren-
ticing. It come by naturk Muster Gashford knows my
calling. Look at that hand of mine — many and many
a job that hand has done, with a neatness and dex-
terity, never known afore. When I look at that hand,"
said Mr. Dennis, shaking it in the air, "and remember
the helegant bits of work it has turned off", I feel quite
molloncholy to think it should ever grow old and feeble.
But sich is life ! "
He heaved a deep sigh as he indulged in these reflec-
tions, and putting his fingers with an absent air on Hugh's*
throat, and particularly under his left ear, as if he were
studying the anatomical development of that part of his
frame, shook his head in a despondent manner and actu-
ally shed tears. *
" You're a kind of artist, I suppose — eh!" said Mr.
Tappertit.
BARNABY RUDGE.
133
f " Yes," rejoined Dennis; " yes — I may call myself a
artist — a fancy workman —art improves natur' — that's
my motto." '
f And what do you call this ?" said Mr. Tappertit
taking his stick out of his hand.
"That's my portrait atop," Dennis replied; "d'ye
think it's like?" ' '' 1 ' ' It'
- M Why >— it's a little too handsome," said Mr. Tap-
pertit. "Who did it? You?" ' '' ' |
' " I!" repeated Dennis, gazing fondly on his image.
" I wish I had the talent. That was carved by a friend
of mine, as is now no more. The very day afore he
died, he cut that with his pocket-knife from memory!
' I'll die game,' says my friend, ' and my last moments
shall be dewoted to making Dennis's picter.' That's it."
" That was a queer fancy, wasn't it ? " said Mr. Tap-
pertit. I
" It. was a queer fancy," rejoined the other, breathing
on his fictitious nose, and polishing it with the cuff of his
coat, "but he was a queer subject altogether—a kind
of gypsy — one of the finest, stand-up men, you ever see.
Ah ! He told me some things that would startle you a
bit, did that friend of mine, on the morning when he
died." , . , ,
"You were with him at the time, were you?" said
Mr. Tappertit.
" Yes," he answered with a curious look, " I was
there. Oh ! yes certainly, I was there. He wouldn't
have gone off half as comfortable without me. I had
been with three or four of his family under the same
circumstances. They were all fine fellows."
" They must have been fond of you," remarked Mr.
Tappertit, looking at him sideways.
BARNABY RDDGE.
" I don't know that they was exactly fond of me," "said
Dennis, with a little hesitation, "but they all had me
near 'em when they departed. I come in for their ward-
robes tooJ This very handkecher that you see round my
neck, belonged to him that I've been speaking of — him
as did that likenes8."i '1 -
Mr. Tappertit glanced at the article referred to, and*
appeared to think that the deceased's ideas of dress were
of a peculiar and by no means an expensive kind. He
made no remark upon the point, however, and suffered
his mysterious companion tb proceed without 'interrup-
tion. . ' i'
" These smalls," said Dennis, rubbing his legs ; "these
very smalls—they belonged to a friend of mine thatfe
left off sifch incumbrances fbrever: this coat too—-Tve
often walked behind this, coat, in the streets, and won-
dered whether it would ever come to me: this pair of
shoes have danced a hornpipe for another man, afore my
eyes, full half a dozen times at least: and as to my hat,"
he said, taking it off, and whirling it round upon his fist
— " Lord ! I've seen this hat go up Holborn on the box
of a hackney-coach — ah, many and many a day ! "
" You don't mean to say their old wearers are all dead,
I hope?" said Mr. Tappertit, falling a little distance from
him, as he spoke.
"Every one of 'em," replied Dennis. "Every man
Jack !"• t
There was something so very ghastly in this circam-
stance, and it appeared to account, in such a very strange
and dismal manner, for his faded dress — which, in this
new aspect, seemed discolored by the earth from graves
— that Mr. Tappertit abruptly found he was going
another way, and, stopping short, bade him good-night
BARNABY RUDGE.
with the utmost heartiness. 1 As they happened to be
near the Old Bailey, and Mr. Oennis knew there wete
turnkeys in the lodge with whom he could pass the
night, and discuss professional subjects of common inter-
est among them before a rousing fire, and over a social
glass, he separated from his companions without any
great regret, and warhily Bhaking hands with Hugh, and
making atl early appointment for their meeting at The
Boot, left tbern to pursue their road.
"That's a strange sort of man," said Mr. Tappertit,
watching the hackney-coachman's hat as it #ent feobbing
down the street. ■# I doitt know what to make of hiitt.
Why can't he have Ms emalls taade to order, Or tfeak
live clothes tik atoy kate?* - ' 1 ' • ;r * ■'
" He's a lucky man, captain," cried Hugh. " I should
like to have such friends as his."
" I hope he don't get 'em to make their wills, and
then knock 'em on the head," said Mr. Tappertit, mus-
ing. " But come. The United B.'s expect me. On !
— What's the matter ? "
" I quite forgot," said Hugh, who had started at the
striking of a neighboring clock. " I have somebody to
see to-night — I must turn back directly. The drinking
and singing put it out of my head. It's well I remem-
bered it!"
Mr. Tappertit looked at him as though he were about
to give utterance to some very majestic sentiments in
reference to this act of desertion, but as it was clear,
from Hugh's hasty manner, thftt the engagement was
one of a pressing nature, he graciously forbore, and
gave him his permission tp depart immediately, wtyph
Hugh acknowledged with a roar of laughter.
" Good-night, captain !" lie cried. " I am yours tp
the death, remember ! " m
136
BABNABY BUDGE.
u Farewell!" said Mr. Tappertit, waving his hand.
" Be bold and vigilant!"
" No Popery, captain !" roared Hugh.
" England in blood first!" cried his desperate leader.
Whereat Hugh cheered and laughed, and ran off like a
greyhound.
" That man will prove a credit to my corps," said
Simon, turning thoughtfully upon his heel. "And let
me see. In an altered state of society — which must
ensue if we break out and are victorious — when the
locksmith's child is mine, Miggs must be got rid of
somehow, or she'll poison the tea-kettle one evening
when I'm out. He might marry Miggs, if he was
drunk enough. It shall be done. I'll make a note of
it."
BAKNABY BUDGE.
137
I CHAPTER XL.
Little thinking of the plan for his happy settlement
in life which had suggested itself to the teeming brain
of his provident commander, Hugh made no pause until
Saint Dunstan's giants struck the hour above him, when
he worked the handle of a pump which stood hard-by,
with great vigor, and thrusting his head under the spout,
let the water gush upon him until a little stream ran
down from every uncombed hair, and he was wet to
the waist. Considerably refreshed by this ablution, both
in mind and body, and almost sobered for the time, he
dried himself as he best could; then crossed the road,
and plied the knocker of the Middle Temple gate.
The night-porter looked through a small grating in
the portal with a surly eye, and cried " Halloa! " which
greeting Hugh returned in kind, and bade him open
quickly.
"We don't sell beer here," cried the man; " what
else do you want?"
" To come in," Hugh replied, with a kick at the
door.
" Where to go to ? "
" Paper-Buildings."
" Whose chambers ? "
" Sir John Chester's." Each of which answers, he
emphasized with another kick.
After a little growling on the other side, the gate was
138
BARNABY RUDGE.
opened, and be passed in : undergoing a close inspec-
tion from the porter as he did so.
" You wanting Sir John, at this time of night! " said
the man.
" Ay!" said Hugh. " I ! What of that ? "
" Why, I must go with you and see that you do, for I
don't believe it."
" Come along then."
Eying him with suspicious looks, the man, with key
and lantern, walked on at his side, and attended him
to Sir John Chester's door, at which Hugh gave one
knock, that echoed through the dark staircase like a
ghostly summons, and made the dull light tremble In
the drowsy lamp.
" Do you think he wants me now ? " said Hugh.
Before the man had time to answer, a footstep was
heard within, a light appeared, and Sir John, in his
dressing-gown and slippers, opened the door.
" I ask your pardon, Sir John," said the porter puB-
ing off his hat. ■" Here's a young man says he wants to
speak to you. It's late for strangers. I thought it best
to see that all was right." *
"Aha! "cried Sir John, raising his eyebrows. "Ifi
you, messenger, is it? Go in. Quite right, friend, I
commend your prudence highly. Thank you. God
bless you. Good-night."
To be commended, thanked, God-blessed, and bade
good-night by one who carried " Sir " before his name,
and wrote himself M.P. to boot, was something for a
porter. He withdrew with much humility and rev-
erence. Sir John followed his late visitor into the
dressing-room, and sitting in his easy-chair before the
fire, and moving it so that he could see him as he
BARNABY RUDGE. 139
stood hat in band, beside the door, looked at him from
head to foot.
The old face, calm and pleasant as ever; the com-
plexion, quite juvenile in its bloom and clearness; the
same smile ; the wonted precision and elegance of dress:
the white, well-ordered teeth p the delicate hands; the
composed and quiet manner; everything as it used'to
be: no marks of age or passion, envy, hate, or* dis-
content: all unruffled and serene, and quite delightful
to behold. f . it
He wrote himself M.P.—but how? Why thus. It
was a proud family — more proud, indeed, than wealthy.
He had stood in danger of arrest; of bailiff!, and a jail
— a vulgar jail, to which the common people with Small
incomes went. Gentlemen of ancient bouses have no
privilege of exemption from such cruel laws — unless
they are of one great house, and then they have. 'A
proud man of his stock and kindred had the means of
sending him there. He offered — not indeed to pay
his debts, but to let him sit for a close borough until
his own son came of age, which, if he lived, would
come to pass in twenty years. It was quite as good
as an Insolvent Act, and infinitely more genteel. So
Sir John Chester was a member of Parliament.
But how Sir John ? Nothing so simple, or so easy.
One touch with a sword of state, and the transformation
is effected. John Chester, Esquire, M. P., attended
court—went up with an address—headed a deputa-
tion. Such elegance of manner, so many graces of de-
portment, such powers of conversation, could never pass
unnoticed. Mr. was too common for such merit. A
man so gentlemanly should have been — but Fortune is
capricious — born a Duke: just as some dukes should'
140
BARNABY RUDGE.
have been bom laboretib He caught the fancy of the
king, knelt down a grub and rose a butterfly. John
Chester, Esquire, was knighted and became Sir John.
" I thought when you left me this evening, my cs-
teemed acquaintance," said Sir John after a pretty long
silence, " that you intended to return with all despatch?"
" So I did, Master."
" And so you have ?" he retorted, glancing at his
watch. " Is that what you would say ? "
Instead of replying, Hugh changed the leg on which he
leant, shuffled his cap from one hand to the other, looked
at the ground, the wall, the ceiling, and finally at Sir
John himself; before whose pleasant face he lowered his
eyes again, and fixed them on the floor.
" And how have you been employing yourself in the
mean while ?" quoth Sir John, lazily crossing his legs.
" Where have you been ? what harm have you been
doing ? "
" No harm at all, Master," growled Hugh, with humil-
ity. " I have only done as you ordered."
" As I what ? " returned Sir John.
" Well then," said Hugh uneasily, " as you advised, or
said I ought, or said I might, or said that you would do,
if you was me. Don't be so hard upon me, master."
Something like an expression of triumph in the per-
feet control he had established over this rough instru-
ment, appeared in the knight's face for an instant; but
it vanished directly, as he said — paring his nails while
speaking: —
" When you say I ordered you, my good fellow, you
imply that I directed you to do something for me —
something I wanted done — something for my own ends
and purposes — you see? Now I am sure I needn't
BARNABY SUDGE.
141
enlarge upon the extreme absurdity of such an idea,
however unintentional; so, please " — and here he
turned his eyes upon him — " to be more guarded. Will
you ? "
" I meant to give you no offence," said Hugh. " I
don't know what to say. You catch mo up so very
short."
" You will be caught up much shorter, my good friend
infinitely shorter — one of these days, depend upon
it," replied his patron, calmly. " By the by, instead of
wondering why you have been so long, my wonder
should be why you came at all. Why did you ?"
" You know, master," said Hugh, " that I couldn't
read the bill I found, and that supposing it to be some-
thing particular from the way it was wrapped up, I
brought it here."
" And could you ask no one else to read it, Bruin ? "
said Sir John.
" No one that I could trust with secrets, master.
Since Barnaby Rudge was lost sight of for good and all
— and that's five year ago—I haven't talked with any
6ne but you."
" You have done me honor, I am sure."
"I have come to and fro, master, all through that
time, when there was anything to tell, because I knew
that you'd be angry with me if I stayed away," said
Hugh, blurting the words out, after an embarrassed
silence; " and because I wished to please you, if I
could, and not to have you go against me. There.
That's the true reason why I came to-night. You know
that, master, I am sure."
" You are a specious fellow," returned Sir John, fixing
his eyes upon him, " and carry two faces under youi
14-2
BARNABY RUDGE.
hood, as well as the best. Didn't you give me in this
room, this evening, any other reason ; no dislike of any-
body who has slighted you, lately, on all occasions,
abused you, treated you with rudeness; acted towards
you, mone as if you were a mongrel dog than a man
like himself?"
" To be sure I did!" cried Hugh, his passion rising,
as the other meant ,it should; " and I say it all over
now, again. I'd do anything to have some revenge on
him — anything. And when you told me that he and
all the Catholics would suffer from those who Joined to-
gether under that handbill, I said I'd make one of'em,
if their master was the devil himself. I am one of 'em.
See whether I am as good as my word and turn out to
be among the foremost, or no. I mayn't have much
head, master, but I've had enough to remember those
that use me ill. You shall see, and so shall he, and so
shall hundreds more, how my spirit backs me -when the
time comes. My bark is nothing to my bite. Some that
I know, had better have a wild lion among 'em than me,
when I am fairly loose —they had ! "
The knight looked at him with a smile of far deeper
meaning than ordinary; and pointing to the old, cup-
board, followed him with his eyes while he filled and
drank a glass of liquor; and smiled when his back was
iturned, with deeper meaning yet.
" You are in a blustering mood, my friend," he said,
w hen Hugh confronted him agiin.
" Not I, master ! " cried Hugh. " I don't say half I
mean. I can't. I haven't got the gift. There are
talkers enough among us; I'll be one of the doers"
" Oh ! you have joined those fellows then ? " said Sir
John, with an air of most profound indifference.
BARNABY BUDGE.
14S
"Yes. I went up to the house you told me of, and
got put down upon the muster. There was another man
there named Dennis" —
" Dennis, eh 1" cried Sir John, laughing. " Ay, ay!
a pleasant fellow, I believe ?"
" A roaring dog, master — one after my own heart —
hot upon the matter too — red-hot."
" So X have heard," replied Sir John carelessly. ," Yon
don't happen to know his trade, do you ? "
" He wouldn't say," cried Hugh. " He keeps it secret."
" Ha, ha !" laughed Sir John. " A strange fancy —
a weakness with some persons — you'll know it one day,
I dare swear."
" We're intimate already," said Hugh.
" Quite natural! And have been drinking together,
eh ? " pursued Sir John. " Did yon say what place you
went to in company, when you left Lord George's ? "
Hugh had not said or thought of saying, but he told
hitn; and this inquiry being followed hy a long train of
questions, he related all that had passed both in and out
of doors, the kind of people he had seen, their numbers,
state of feeling, mode of conversation, apparent expecta-
tions and intentions. His questioning was so artfully
contrived, that he seemed even in his own eyes to volun-
teer all this information rather than to have it wrested
from him ; and he was brought to this state of feeling so
naturally, than when Mr. Chester yawned at length and
declared himself quite wearied out, he made a rough kind
of excuse for having talked so much.
" There — get you gone," said Sir John, holding the
door open in his hand. " You have made a pretty even-
ing's work. I told you not to do this. You may get
into trouble. You'll have an opportunity of revenging
144
BARNABY RUDGE.
yourself on your proud friend Haredale, though, and for
that, you'd hazard anything I suppose ? "
" I would," retorted Hugh, stopping in his passage out
and looking back; " but what do I risk! What do I
stand a chance of losing, master? Friends, home? A
fig for 'em all; I have none; they are nothing to me.
Give me a good scuffle; let me pay off old scores in a
bold riot where there are men to stand by me; and'lhen
use me as you like — it don't matter much to me what
the end is!"
"What have you done with that paper?" said Sir
John.
" I have it here, master."
" Drop it again as you go along; it's as well not to
keep such things about you."
Hugh nodded, and touching his cap with an air of as
much respect as he could summon up, departed.
Sir John, fastening the doors behind him, went back
to his dressing-room, and sat down once again before the
fire, at which he gazed for a long time, in earnest medi-
tation.
•' This happens fortunately," he said, breaking into a
smile, " and promises well. Let me see. My relative
and I, who are the most Protestant fellows in the world,
give our worst wishes to the Roman Cathclic cause; and
to Saville, who introduces their bill, I have a personal
objection besides; but as each of us has himself for the
first article in his creed, we cannot commit ourselves by
joining with a very extravagant madman, such as this
Gordon most undoubtedly is. Now really, to foment his
disturbances in secret, through the medium of such a
very apt instrument as my savage friend here, may
further our real ends; and to express at all becoming
BARNABY RUDGE.
145
seasons, in moderate and polite terms, a disapprobation
of his proceedings, though we agree with him in prin-
ciple, will certainly be to gain a character for honesty
and uprightness of purpose, which cannot fail to do us
infinite service, and to raise us into some importance.
Good! So much for public grounds. As to private
considerations, I confess that if these vagabonds would.
inake some riotous demonstration (which does not ap-
pear impossible), and would inflict some little chastise-
Went on Haredale as a not inactive man among his sect,
it would be extremely agreeable to my feelings, and
would amuse me beyond measure. Good again! Per-
haps better!"
When he came to this point, he took a pinch of snuff;
then beginning slowly to undress, he resumed his medi-
tations, by saying with a smile :
" I fear, I do fear exceedingly, that my friend is fol-
lowing fast in the footsteps of his mother. His intimacy
with Mr. Dennis is very ominous. But I have no doubt
he must have come to that end any way. If I lend him
a helping hand, the only difference is, that he may, upon
the whole, possibly drink a few gallons, or puncheons, or
hogsheads, less in this life than he otherwise would. It's
no business of mine. It's a matter of very small im-
portance!"
i So he took another pinch of snnff, and went to bed.
you n.
10
146
BARNABY BTIDGB.
CHAPTER XLI.
1 '
Fhom the workshop of the Golden Key, there issued
forth a tinkling sound", so merry and good-humored, that
it suggested the idea of some one working blithely, and
made quite pleasant music. No man who hammered on
at h dull monotonous duty, could have brought such
cheerful notes from steel and iron; none but a chirping,
heahhyy honest-hearted fellow, who made the best of
everything; and felt kindly towards everybody, could
have done it for an instant. He might have been a cop-
persmith, and still been musicaL If he had sat in a
jolting wagon, fell of rods of iron, it seemed as if he
would have brought some harmony out of it. 'r
Tink, tink, tink -r- clear as a silver bell, and audible at
every pause of the streets' Harsher nofees, as though it
said, I don't care ; nothing puts me out; I am Fesolved
to be happy." Women scolded, children squalled^ heavy
carts went rumbling by, horribde cries proceeded from
the lungs of hawkers ; still it struck in again, no higher,
no lowers no louder, no softer; not thrusting itself'On
people's notice a bit the more for having been outdone
by louder sounds — tink, tink, tink, tink, tink.
It was a perfect embodiment pj the still small voice,
free from all cold, hoarseness, huskiness, or unhealthi-
ness of any kind ; foot-passengers slackened their pace,
and were disposed to linger near it; neighbors who had
got up splenetic that morning, felt good-humor stealing
BARNABY RUDGE.
147
on them as they heated it, and by degrees became quite
sprightly; 'mothers danced their babies to its ringing;
•still, the same magical tink, tink, tink, came gayly from
the workshop of the Golden Key.
Who but the locksmith could have made such music!
■A gleam of sun shining through the unsashed window
and checkering the dark workshop with a broad patch
of light, fell full upon him, as; though attracted by his
sunny heart. There he stood working at his anvil, bis
face all radiant-with exercise and gladness, his sleeves
turned up, his wig pushed off his shining forehead —the
easiest, freest, happiest man in all the world. Beside
him sat a sleek cat, purring and winking in the light,
and falling every now and then into an idle doze, as
from excess of comfort. Toby looked on from a tall
bench hard by; 'one beaming smile, from his broad nut-
brown face down to the slack-baked buckles ih his shoes.
The very locks that hung around had something jovial
in their rust, and seemed like gouty gentlemen of hearty
natures, disposed to joke on their infirmities, i There
was nothing surly or severe in the whole scene. It
seemed impossible that any one of the innumerable keys
could fit a churlish strong-box or a prison-door. Gel-
lars of beer and wine, rooms where there were fires,
books, gossip, and cheering laughter — these were their
proper sphere of action. < Places of distrust and Cruel-
ty, and restraint, *hey would have left quadruple-locked
forever. • 1
Tink, tink, tink. The locksmith paused at last, and
wiped his brow. The silence roused the cat, who, jump-
iog softly down, crept to the door, and watched with
tiger eyes a bird-cage in an opposite window. Gabriel
lifted Toby to his mouth, and took a hearty draught.
148
BAKNABY BUDGE.
Then, as he stood upright, with his head flung back;
and his portly chest thrown out, you would have seen
that Gabriel's lower man was clothed in military gear.
Glancing at the wall beyond, there might have been es-
pied, hanging on their several pegs, a cap and feather,
broadsword, sash, and coat of scarlet; which any man
learned in such matters would have known from their
make and pattern to be the uniform of a sergeant in the
Royal East-London Volunteers. . 5,
As the locksmith put bis mug down, empty, on the
bench, whence it had smiled on him before, he glanced
at these articles with a laughing eye, and looking at
them with his head a little on one side, as though he
would get them all into a focus, said, leaning on his ham-
mer; ... , , 1
" Time was, now, I remember, when I was like to run
mad with the desire to wear a coat of that color. If any
one (except my father) had called me a fool for my
pains, how I should have fired and fumed! But what a
fool I must have been, sure-ly ! " . ,
" Ah ! " sighed Mrs. Varden, who had entered unob-
served. " A fool indeed. A man at your time of life,
Varden, should know better now."
" Why, what a ridiculous woman you are, Martha,"
said the locksmith, turning round with a smile.
" Certainly," replied Mrs. V. with great demureness.
Of course I am. I know that, Varden. Thank you."
" I mean " — began the locksmith.
" Yes," said his wife, " I know what you mean. You
speak quite plain enough to be understood, Varden. It's
very kind of you to adapt yourself to my capacity, I am
sure."
" Tut, tut, Martha," rejoined the locksmith ; " don't
BARNABY BUDGE.
149
take offence at nothing. I mean, how strange it is of
you to run down volunteering, when it's done to defend
you and all the other women, and our own fireside and
everybody else's, in case of need."
" It's unchristian," cried Mrs. Varden, shaking her
head.
" Unchristian ! " said the locksmith. " Why what the
devil"— '
Mrs. Varden looked at the ceiling, as in expectation
that the consequence of this profanity would be the im-
mediate descent of the four-post bedstead on the second
floor, together with the best sitting-room on the first;
but no visible judgment occurring, she heaved a deep
sigh, and begged her husband, in a tone of resignation,
to go on, and by all means to blaspheme as much as pos-
sible, because he knew she liked it.
The locksmith did for a moment seem disposed to
gratify her, but he gave a great gulp, and mildly re-
joined:
" I was going to say, what on earth do you call it un-
christian for ? Which would be most unchristian, Mar-
tha — to sit quietly down and let our houses be sacked
by a foreign army, or to turn out like men and drive 'em
off? Shouldn't I be a nice sort of a Christian, if I
crept into a corner of my own chimney and looked on
while a parcel of whiskered savages bore off Dolly — or
vou ? " i
When he said " or you," Mrs. Varden, despite herself,
relaxed into a smile. There was something compliment-
ary in the idea. " In such a state of things as that, in-
deed " — she simpered.
"As that!" repeated the locksmith. "Well, that
would be the state of things directly. Even Miggs
150
BARNABY RUDGE.
would go. Some black tambourine-player, with a great
turban on, would be bearing her off, and unless the
tambourine-player was proof against kicking and scratch-
ing, it's my belief he'd have the worst of it. Ha, ha,
ha ! ■ I'd forgive the tambourine-player. I wouldn't have
him interfered with on any account, poor fellow." And
here the locksmith laughed again so heartily^ that 'tears
came into his eyes — much to Mrs. Varden's indignation,
who thought the capture of so sound a Protestant'and
estimable a private character as Miggs by a pagan
negro, a circumstance too shocking and awful for con-
temptation. >
The picture Gabriel had drawn, indeed, threatened
serious consequences, and would indubitably have led
to them, but luckily at that moment a light footstep
crossed the threshold, and Dolly, running in, threw her
arms round her old father's neck and hugged him
tight .i _
" Here she is at last! " cried Gabriel. " And how
well you look, Doll, and how late you are, my dar-
ling '!i !•
t How well she looked ? Well ? Why, if he had ex-
hausted every laudatory adjective in the dictionary, it
wouldn't have been praise enough. When and whore
was there ever such a plump, Toguish, comely, bright-
eyed, entieing, bewitching, captivating, maddening little
puss in all this world, as Dolly! What was the Doll}
of five years ago, to the Dolly of that day 1 How man}
coach-makers, saddlers, cabinet-makers, and professors of
other useful arts, had deserted their fathers, mothers,
sisters, brothers, and, most of all, their cousins, for the
love of her ! How many unknown gentlemen —1- sup
posed to be of mighty fortunes, if not titles — had waked
BARNABY RUDGE.
151
round the corner after dark, and tempted Miggs the in-
corruptible, with golden guineas, to deliver offers of mar-
riage folded up in love-letters I How many disconsolate
fathers and substantial tradesmen had waited on the lock-
smith for the same purpose, with dismal tales of how
their sons had lost their appetites* and taken to shut
themselves up in dark bedrooms, and wandering in deso-
late suburbs with pale faces, and all because of Dolly
Varden's loveliness and cruelty 1 How many young
men, In all previous times of unprecedented steadiness,
had turned suddenly wild and wicked for the same rea-
son, and, in an ecstasy of unrequited love, taken to
wrench off door-knockers, and invert the boxes of
rheumatic watchmen! How had she recruited the
king's service, both by sea and land, through render
ing desperate his loving subjects between the ages of
eighteen and twenty-five ! How many young ladies had
publicly professed with tears in their eyes* that for their
tastes she was much too short, too tall, too bold, too cold,
too stout, too thin, too feir, too dark —n too everything but
handsome! How many old ladies, taking counsel to-
gether, had thanked Heaven their daughters were not
like her, and bad hoped she might come to, no harm, and
had thought she would come to no good, and had won-
dered what, people saw- in her, and had arrived at the
conclusion that she was "going off" in her looks, or
had never come on in them, and that she was a thorough
imposition and a popular mistake 1 i
And yet here was this same DoHjr Varden, so whim-
steal; and,' hard to please that she was Dolly Yarden still,
all smiles and dimples, and pleasant looks, and caring no
more for the fifty or sixty young fellows wuo at that
very moment were breaking their hearts to marry her,
152
BARNABY BUDGE.
than if so many oysters had been crossed in love and
opened afterwards.
Dolly hugged her father as has been already stated,
and having hugged her mother also, accompanied both
into the little parlor where the cloth was already laid for
dinner, and where Miss Miggs — a trifle more rigid and
bony than of yore — received her with a sort of hys-
terical gasp, intended for a smile. Into the hands of
that young virgin, she delivered her bonnet and walk-
ing dress (all of a dreadful, artful, and designing kind),
and then said with a laugh, which rivalled the lock-
smith's music, " How glad I always am to be at home
again!"
" And how glad we always are, Doll," said her father,
putting back the dark hair from her sparkling eyes, " to
have you at home. Give me a kiss."
If there had been anybody of the male kind there
to see her do it — but there was not — it was a
mercy.
" I don't like your being at the Warren," said the lock-
smith, " I can't bear to have you out of my sight. And
what is the news over yonder, Doll ? "
" What news there is, I think you know already," re-
plied his daughter. " I am sure you do, though."
" Ay ? " cried the locksmith. " What's that ? "
" Come, come," said Dolly, " you know very well. I
want you to tell me why Mr. Haredale — oh, how gruF
he is again, to be sure ! — has been away from home for
some days past, and why he is travelling about (we
know he is travelling, because of his letters) without
telling his own niece why or wherefore."
a Miss Emma doesn't want to know, I'll swear," re-
turned the locksmith.
BARNABY BUDGE.
153
fc I don't know that," said Dolly ; " but 1 do, at any
rate. Do tell me. Why is he so secret, and what is this
ghost story, which nobody is to tell Miss Emma, and
which seems to be mixed up with his going away ? Now
I see you know by your coloring so."
" What the story means, or is, or has to do with it, I
know no more than you, my dear," returned the lock-
smith, " except that it's some foolish fear of little Solo-
mon's — which has, indeed, no meaning in it, I suppose.
As to Mr. Haredale's journey, he goes, as I believe " —
" Yes," said Dolly.
" As I believe," resumed the locksmith, pinching her
Cheek, " on business, Doll. What it may be, is quite
another matter. Read Blue Beard, and don't be too
curious, pet; it's no business of yours or mine, depend
upon that; and here's dinner, which is much more to
the purpose."
Dolly might have remonstrated against this summary
dismissal of the subject, notwithstanding the appearance
of dinner, but at the mention of Blue Beard Mrs. Var-
den interposed, protesting she could not find it in her
conscience to sit tamely by, and hear her child recom-
mended to peruse the adventures of a Turk and Mussul-
man — far less of a fabulous Turk, which she consid-
ered that potentate to be. She held that in such stirring
and tremendous times as those in which they lived, it
would be much more to the purpose if Dolly became a
regular subscriber to the Thunderer, where she would
have an opportunity of reading Lord George Gordon's
speeches word for word, which would be a greater com-
fort and solace to her, than a hundred and fifty Blue
Beards ever could impart. She appealed in support of
this proposition to Miss Miggs, then in waiting, who said
154
BARNABY RUDGE.
that indeed the peace of mind she had derived from the
perusal of that paper generally, but especially of one
article of the very last week as ever was, entitled
" Great Britain drenched in gore," exceeded all belief;
the same composition, she added, had also wrought such
a comforting effect on the mind of a married sister of
hers, then resident at Golden Lion Court, number twerr
ty-sivin, second, bell-handle on the right hand door-post,
that, being in a delicate state of health, and, in fact, e«-
pecting an addition to her family, she had been, seized
with fits directly after its perusal, and had raved of the
inquisition ever since; to the great improvement qf her
husband and friends. Miss Miggs went on to say that
she would recommend all those whose hearts were har-
dened to hear Lord George themselves, whom she com-
mended first, in respect of his steady Protestantism, then
of his oratory, then of his eyes, then of his nose, then
of his legs, and lastly of his figure generally, which she
looked upon as fit for any statue, prince, or angel, to
which sentiment Mrs, Varden fully subscribed.
Mrs. Varden having cut in, looked at a box upon the
mantle-shelf, painted in imitation of a very red-brick
dwelling-house, with a yellow roof,; having at top a real
chimney, down which voluntary subscribers dropped
their silver, gold, or pence, into the parlor; and on the
door the counterfeit presentment of a brass plate, where-
on was legibly inscribed "Protestant Association s"
and looking at it, said, that it was to her a source of
poignant misery to think that Varden never had, of all
his substance, dropped anything into that temple, save
once in secret — as she afterwards discovered — two
fragments of tobacco-pipe, which she hoped would not bfc
put down to his last account. That Dolly, she was
BARNABY BODGE.
grieved to say, was no less backward in her eoiitribu-
tions, better loving, as it seemed, to purchase ribbons
and such gauds, than to encourage the great cause, then
in such heavy Kribulation ; and that she did entreat her
(her father site much feared could not be moved) not to
despise, but imitate, the bright example of Miss Miggs,
who flung her wages, as it were, into the very counte-
nance of the Pope, and bruised his features with her
quarter's money. i
"Oh, mim,'h said Miggs, "don't relude to that. I
had no intentions, mim, that nobody should know. Such
sacrifices as I can make, are quite a widder's mite. It's
all I have," cried Miggs, with a great burst of tears —
for with her they never came on by degrees —" but
it's made up to me in other ways ; it's well made
up." i ■ . r 1
This was quite true, though not perhaps in the sense
that Miggs intended. As she never failed to keep her
self-denial full in Mrs. Yarden's view, it drew forth so
many gifts of caps and gowns and other articles of dress,
that upon the whole the red-brick house was perhaps the
best investment for her small capital she could possibly
have it upon ; returning her interest, at the rate of seven
or eight per cent, in money, and fifty at least in personal
repute and credit. 1 1
1 " You needn't cry, Miggs," said Mrs. Varden, herself
Hi tears; " you needn't be ashamed of it, though your
poor mistress is on the same side."
Miggs howled at this remark, in a peculiarly dismal
way, and said she knowed that master hated her. That
't was a dreadful thing to live in families and have
dislikes, and not give satisfactions. That to make di-
visions was a thing she could not abear to think of,
156
BARNABY RODGE.
neither could her feelings let her do it. That if it was
master's wishes as she and him should part, it was best
they should part, and she hoped he might be the hap-
pier for it, and always wishes him well, and that he
might find somebody as would meet his dispositions. It
would be a hard trial, she said, to part from such a
missis, but she could meet any suffering when her con-
science told her she was in the rights, and therefore
she was willing even to go that lengths. She did not
think, she added, that she could long survive the sep-
arations, but, as she was hated and looked upon un-
pleasant, perhaps her dying as soon as possible would
be the best endings for all parties. With this affecting
conclusion, Miss Miggs shed more tears, and sobbed
abundantly.
" Can you bear this, Varden ?" said his wife in a
solemn voice, laying down her knife and fork.
" Why, not very well, my dear," rejoined the lock-
smith, " but I try to keep my temper."
" Don't let there be words on my account, mim,"
sobbed Miggs. " It's much the best that we should
part. I wouldn't stay — oh, gracious me!—and make
dissensions, not for a annual gold mine, and found in
tea and sugar."
Lest the reader should be at any loss to discover the
cause of Mjss Miggs's deep emotion, it may be whispered
apart that, happening to be listening, as her custom
sometimes was, when Gabriel and his wife conversed
together, she had heard the locksmith's joke relative
to the foreign black who played the tambourine, and
bursting with the spiteful feelings which the taunt awoke
in her fair breast, exploded in the manner we have
witnessed. Matters having now arrived at a crisis, the
BARNABT RUDGE-
157
locksmith, as usual, and for the sake cf peace and quiet-
ness, gave in.
" What are you crying for, girl ? " he said. " What's
the matter with you ? What are you talking about
hatred for ? I don't hate you; I don't hate any-
body. Dry your eyes and make yourself agreeable,
in Heaven's name, and let us all be happy while wo
can."
The allied powers deeming it good generalship to
consider this a sufficient apology on the part of the
enemy, and confession of having been in the wrong,
did dry their eyes and take it in good part. Miss
Miggs observed that she bore no malice, no not to her
greatest foe, whom she rather loved the more indeed,
the greater persecution she sustained. Mrs. Varden
approved of this meek and forgiving spirit in high
terms, and incidentally declared as a closing article
of agreement, that Dolly should accompany her to
the Clerkenwell branch of the association, that very
night. This was an extraordinary instance of her
great prudence and policy; having had this end in
view from the first, and entertaining a secret misgiving
that the locksmith (who was bold when Dolly was in
question) would object, she had backed Miss Miggs up
to this point, in order that she might have *him at a
disadvantage. The manoeuvre succeeded so well that
Gabriel only made a wry face, and with the warning
he had just had, fresh in his mind, did not dare to
say one word.
The difference ended, therefore, in Miggs being pre-
sented with a gown by Mrs. Varden and half a crown
by Dolly, as if she had eminently distinguished herself
in the paths of morality and goodness. Mrs. V., ac-
BARNABY BUDGE.
cording to custom, expressed her hope that Varden
would take a lesson from what had passed and learn
more generous conduct for the time to come ; and the
dinner being now cold and nobody's appetite very much
improved by what had passed, they went on with it, as
Mrs. Varden said, " like Christians."
As there was to be a grand, parade of the Royal
East London Volunteers that afternoon, the locksmith
did no more work; but sat down comfortably with
his pipe in. his mouth, and his arm round his pretty
daughter's waist, looking lovingly on Mrs. V., from
time to time, and exhibiting from the crown of his
head to the sole of his foot, one smiling surface of
good-humor. And to be sure, when it was time to
dress him in his regimentals, and Dolly, hanging about
him in all kinds of graceful winning ways, helped
to button and buckle and brush him up and get him
into one of the tightest coats that ever was made by
mortal tailor, he was the proudest father in all Eng-
land.
" What a handy jade it is!" said the locksmith to
Mrs. Varden, who stood by with folded hands — rather
proud of her husband too — while Miggs held his cap
and sword at arm's length, as if mistrusting that the
latter might run some one through the body of its-
own accord; " but never marry a soldier, Doll, my
dear."
Dolly didn't ask why not, or say a word, indeed,
but stooped her head down very low to tie his sash.
" I never wear this dress," said honest Gabriel, " but
I think of poor Joe Willet. I loved Joe ; he was al-
ways a favorite of mine. Poor Joe ! — Dear heart, my
girl, don't tie me in so tight."
BARNABY SURGE.
159
Dolly laughed ■*— hot like herself at all — the stran-
gest little laugh that could be — and held her head
down lower still.
" Poor Joe !" returned the locksmith, muttering to
himself; " I always wish he had come to me. I might
have made it up between them, if he had. Ah! old
John made a great mistake in his way of acting by that
lad—a great mistake. — Have you nearly tied that sash,
my dear." '
What an ill-made sash it was! There it was, loose
again and trailing on the ground. Dolly was obliged to
kneel down, and recommence at the beginning.
" Never mind young Willet, Varden," said his wife
frowning; " you might find some one more deserving to
talk about, I think."
Miss Miggs gave a great sniff to the same effect.
u Nay, Martha," cried the locksmith, u don't let us
bear too hard upon him. If the lad is dead indeed,
we'll deal kindly by his memory."
" A runaway and a vagabond !" said Mrs. Var-
den.
Miss Miggs expressed her concurrence as before.
" A runaway, my dear, but not a vagabond," re-
turned the locksmith in a gentle tone. " He behaved
himself well, did Joe — always — and was a hand-
some, manly fellow. Don't call him a vagabond,
Martha."
Mrs. Yarden coughed—and so did Miggs.
« " He tried hard to gain your good opinion, Martha,
I can tell you," said the locksmith smiling, and stroking
his chin. " Ah! that he did. It seems but yesterday
that he followed me out to the Maypole door one night,
and begged me not to say how like a boy they used him
160
BABNABY RUDGE.
— say here, at home, he meant, though at the time, I
recollect, I didn't understand. ' And how's Miss Dolly,
sir ?' says Joe," pursued the locksmith, musing sorrow-
fully, " Ah ! Poor Joe! "
" Well, I declare," cried Miggs. " Oh ! goodness
gracious me !"
" What's the matter now ?" said Gabriel, turning
sharply to her.
" Why if here a'n't Miss Dolly," said the hand-
maid, stooping down to look into her face, " a-giving
way to floods of tears. Oh mim ! oh sir. Raly it's
give me such a turn," cried the susceptible damsel,
pressing her hand upon her side to quell the palpita-
tion of her heart, " that you might knock me down with
a feather."
The locksmith after glancing at Miss Miggs as if he
could have wished to have a feather brought straight-
way, looked on with a broad stare while Dolly hurried
away, followed by that sympathizing young woman:
then turning to his wife, stammered out, " Is Dolly ill ?
Have I done anything ? Is it my fault ? "
" Your fault! " cried Mrs. Y. reproachfully. " There
— you had better make haste out."
" What have I done ? " said poor Gabriel. " It was
agreed that Mr. Edward's name was never to be men-
tioned, and I have not spoken of him, have I ?"
Mrs. Yarden merely replied that she had no pa-
tience with him, and bounced off" after the other two.
The unfortunate locksmith wound his sash about him,
girded on his sword, put on his cap, and walked
out.
" I am not much of a dab at my exercise," he said
under his breath, "but I shall get into fewer scrapes
BARNABY RUDGE.
161
at that work than at this. Every man came into
the world for something; my department seems to be
to make every woman cry without meaning it. It's
rather hard!"
But he forgot it before he reached the end of the
street, and went on with a shining face, nodding to the
neighbors, and showering about his friendly greetings
like mild spring rain. i i ■ ,< u!'
vol.. n.
11
162
barnaby rudge.
%«* f ' ' I ' ' '
d . • : 1 CHAPTER XLII.
. " .ji i ■ ■ 'I 'i* '
The Royal East London Volunteers made a feritt-
iant sight that day: formed into lines, squares, circles,
triangles, and what not, to the beating of drums and the
streaming of flags; and performed a vast number of
complex evolutions, in all of which Sergeant Varden
bore a conspicuous share. Having displayed their mili-
tary prowess to the utmost in these warlike shows, they
marched in glittering order to the Chelsea Bun-house,
and regaled in the adjacent taverns until dark. Then
at sound of drum they fell in again, and returned amidst
the shouting of His Majesty's lieges to the place from
whence they came.
The homeward march being somewhat tardy, —
owing to the un-soldierlike behavior of certain corporals,
who being gentlemen of sedentary pursuits in private
life and excitable out of doors, broke several windows
with their bayonets, and rendered it imperative on the
commanding officer to deliver them over to a strong
guard, with whom they fought at intervals as they came
along, — it was nine o'clock when the locksmith reached
home. A hackney-coach was waiting near his door;
and as he passed it, Mr. Haredale looked from the win-
dow and called him by his name.
" The sight of you is good for sore eyes, sir," said
the locksmith, stepping up to him. " I wish you had
walked in though, rather than waited here."
BARNABY RUDGE.
I "There is nobody at home, I find," Mr. Haredale
answered; "besides, I desired to be as private as I?
could." '
" Humph ! " muttered the locksmith, looking round
at his house. " Gone with Simon Tappertit to that
precious Branch, no doubt*"
Mr. Haredale invited! him to come into the coach,
and, if he were not tired or anxious to go home, to ride
with him a little way that they might have some talk
together. Gabriel cheerfully complied, and the coach-
man mounting his box drove off. I
" Varden," said Mr. Haredale, after a minute's pause,
" you will be amazed to hear what errand I am on; it
will seem a very strange one." . . .
" I have no doubt it's a reasonable one, sir, and has a
meaning in it,'' replied the locksmith; "or it would not
be yours- at all. Have you just come back to town, sir? ''
" But half an hour ago."
"Bringing no news of Barnaby, or his mother?"
said the locksmith dubiously, " Ah ! you needn't shake
your head, sir. It was a wild-goose chase. I feared
that, from the first. You exhausted all reasonable
means of discovery when they went away. To begin
again after so long a time has passed is hopeless, sir
— quite hopeless."
"Why, where are they?" he returned impatiently.
"Where can they be? Above ground?"
" God knows," rejoined the locksmith, " many that I
knew above it five years ago, have their beds under the
grass now. And the world is a wide place. It's a
lmpeless attempt, sir, believe me. We must leave the
discovery of this mystery, like all others, to time, and
•accident, and Heaven's pleasure."
164
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Varden, my good fellow," said Mr. Haredale, " 1
have a deeper meaning in my present anxiety to find
them out, than you can fathom. It is not a mere whim;
it is not the casual revival of my old wishes and de-
sires; but an earnest, solemn purpose. My thoughts
and dreams all tend to it, and fix it in my mind. I
have no rest by day or night; I have no peace or quiet;
I am haunted."
His voice was so altered from its usual tones, and
his manner bespoke so much emotion, that Gabriel, in
his wonder, could only sit and look towards him in the
darkness, and fancy the expression of his face. '
" Do not ask me," continued Mr. Haredale, "to ex-
plain myself. If I were to do so, you would think me
the victim of some hideous fancy., It is enough that
this is so, and that I cannot — no, I caijnot— lie quietly
in my bed, without doing what will sedin to y#u incom-
prehensible." »' f t •
" Since when, sir," said the loebsmith after a pause,
"has this uneasy feeling been up&n you?'" 4'
Mr. Haredale hesitated for some moments, and then
replied ; " Since the night of tjle storm. " In short, since
the last nineteenth of March.
As though he feared that Varden migb&exp^Kss sur-
prise, or reason with him, he hastily went <yi': —
" You will think, I know, I labor under sotne delu-
won. Perhaps I do. But it is not a morjh&i one; it
is a wholesome action of the mind, reasoning on actual
occurrences. You know the furniture remains in Mrs.
Rudge's house, and that it has been shut up, by my
orders, since she went away, save once a-week or so,
when an old neighbor visits it to scare away the rats.
1 am on my way there .now."
BARNABY RUDGE.
165
"For what purpose?" asked the locksmith.
"To pass the night there," he replied; "and not to-
night alone, but many nights. This is a secret which I
trust to you in case of any unexpected emergency- You
will not come, unless in case of strong necessity, to me;
from dusk to broad day, I shall be there. Emma, your
daughter, and the rest, suppose me out of London, as
I have been until within this hour. Do not undeceive
them. This is the errand I am bound upon. I know
I may confide it to you, and I rely upon your question-
ing me no more at this time."
With that, as if to change the theme, he led the
astounded locksmith back to the night of the Maypole
highwayman, to the robbery of Edward Chester, to the
reappearance of the man at Mrs. Rudge's house, and
to all the strange circumstances which afterwards oc-
curred. He even asked him carelessly about the man's
height, his face, his figure, whether he was like any one
he had ever seen — like Hugh, for instance, or any man
he had know.n at any time — and put many questions
of that sort, which the locksmith, considering them as
mere devices to engage his attention and prevent his
expressing the astonishment he felt, answered pretty
much at random.
At length, they arrived at the corner of the street in
which the house stood, where Mr. Haredale, alighting,
dismissed--the coach. " If you desire to see me safely
lodged," he said, turning to the locksmith with a gloomy
smile, " you can."
Gabriel, to whom all former marvels had been noth-
ing in comparison with this, followed him along the
narrow pavement in silence. When they reached the
Joor, Mr. Haredale softly opened it with a key he had
166
BARNABY RUDGE.
about him, and closing it when Yarden entered, they
were left in thorough darkness.
They groped their way into the ground-floor room.
Here Mr. Haredale struck a light, and kindled a pocket
taper he had brought with him for the purpose. It was
then, when the flame was full upon him, that the lock-
smith saw for the first time how haggard, pale, and
changed he looked; how worn and thin he was; how
perfectly bis whole appearance coincided with all that
he had said so strangely as they rode along. It was
not an unnatural impulse in Gabriel, after what he had
heard, to note curiously the expression of his eyes. It
was perfectly collected and rational; — so much so,
indeed, that he felt ashamed of his momentary suspi-
cion, and drooped his own when Mr. Haredale looked
towards him, as if he feared they would betray his
thoughts.
" Will you walk through the house ? " said Mr. Hare-
dale, with a glance towards the window, the crazy shut-
ters of which were closed and fastened. " Speak low."
There was a kind of awe about the place, which
would have rendered it difficult to speak in any other
manner. Gabriel whispered "Yes," and followed him
up-stairs.
Everything was just as they had seen it last. There
was a sense of closeness from the exclusion of fresh air,
and a gloom and heaviness around, as though long imr
prisonment had made the very silence sad. The homely
hangings of the beds and windows had begun to droop;
the dust lay thick upon their dwindling folds; and
damps had made their way through ceiling, wall, and
floor. The boards creaked beneath their tread, as if
resenting the unaccustomed intrusion ; nimble spiders,
BARNABY RUDGE.
167
paralyzed by the taper's glare, Checked the motion of
their hundred legs upon the #all, or dropped like life-
less things upon the ground; the death-watch ticked;
and the scampering feet of rats and mice rattled behind
the wainscot.
As they looked about them on the decaying furniture
it was strange to find ho# vividly It presented those to
whom it had belohged, and with whom it was once fa-
miliar. Grip seemed to perch again upon his high-
backed chair ; Barnaby to crouch in his old favorite cor-
ner by the fire; the mother to resume her usual seat,
and watch him as of old. Even when they could sepa-
rate these objects from the phantoms of the mind which
they invoked, the latter only glided out of sight, but
lingered near them still; for then they seemed to lurk
in closets and behind the doors, ready to start out and
suddenly accost them in well-remembered tones.
They went down-stairs, and again into the room they
had just now left. Mr. Haredale unbuckled his sword
and laid it on the table, with a pair of pocket pistols;
then told the locksmith he would light him to the door.
" But this is a dull place, sir," said Gabriel lingering;
" may no one share your watch ? "
He shook his head, and so plainly evinced his wish to
be alone, that Gabriel could say no more. In another
moment the locksmith was standing in the street, whence
he could see that the light once more travelled up-stairs,
and soon returning to the room below, shone brightly
through the chinks in the shutters.
If ever man were sorely puzzled and perplexed, the
locksmith was, that night, $ven when snugly seated by
his own fireside, with Yarden opposite in a night-
cap and night-jacket, and D.olly beside him (in a iflost
168
BARNABY BUDGE.
distracting dishabille) curling her hair, and smiling as if
she had never cried in all her life and never could —
even then, with Toby at his elbow and his pipe in his
mouth and Miggs (but that perhaps was not much) fall-
ing asleep in the background, he could not quite discard
his wonder and uneasiness. So, in his dreams — still
there was Mr. Haredale, haggard and careworn, listen-
ing in the solitary house to every sound that stirred, with
the taper shining through the chinks until the day should
turn it pale and end his lonely watching.
BABNABY BUDGE.
169
CHAPTER XLIII.
Next morning brought no satisfaction to the lock-
smith's thoughts, nor next day, nor the next, nor many
others. Often after nightfall he entered the street, and
turned his eyes towards the well-known house; and as
surely as he did so, there was the solitary light, still
gleaming through the crevices of the window-shutter,
while all within was motionless, noiseless, cheerless, as a
grave. Unwilling to hazard Mr. Haredale's favor by
disobeying his strict injunction, he never ventured to
knock at the door or to make his presence known in any
way. But whenever strong interest and curiosity at-
tracted him to the spot — which was not seldom — the
light was always there.
If he could have known what passed within, the knowl-
edge would have yielded him no clew to this mysterious
vigil. At twilight, Mr. Haredale shut himself up, and
at daybreak he came forth. He never missed a night,
always came and went alone, and never varied his pro-
ceedings in the least degree.
The manner of his watch was this. At dusk, he en-
tered the house in the same way as when the locksmith
nore him company, kindled a light, went through the
rooms, and narrowly examined them. That done, he
returned to the chamber on the ground-floor, and laying
his sword and pistols on the table, sat by it until morn-
ing. f k
170
BARNABY RUDGE.
He usually had a book with him, and often tried to
read, but never fixed his eyes or thoughts upon it for
five minutes together. The slightest noise without doors,
caught his ear; a step upon the pavement seemed to
make his heart leap.
He was not without some refreshment during the long
lonely hours; generally carrying in his pocket a sand-
wich of bread and meat, and a small flask of wine. The
latter, diluted with large quantities of water, he drank in
a heated, feverish way, as though his throat were dried;
but he scarcely ever broke his fast, by so much as a
crumb of bread.
If this voluntary sacrifice of sleep and comfort had its
origin, as the locksmith on consideration was disposed to
think, in any superstitious expectation of the fulfilment
of a dream or vision connected with the event on which
he had brooded for so many years, and if he waited for
some ghostly visitor who walked abroad when men lay
sleeping in their beds, he showed no trace of fear or
wavering. His stern features expressed inflexible reso-
lution; his brows were puckered, and his lips compressed,
with deep and settled purpose ; and when he started at a
noise and listened, it was not with the start of (ear but
hope, and catching up his sword as though the hour had
come at last, he would clutch it in his tight-clinched
hand, and listen, with sparkling eyes and eager looks,
until it died away.
These disappointments were numerous, for they en 1
sued on almost every sound, but his constancy was not
shaken. Still, every night he was at his post, the same
steyn, sleepless, sentinel; and still night passed, and
morning dawned, and he must watch again.
This went on for weeks; he had taken a lodging at
HAKNABT rudge.
171
Vauxhall in which to pass the day and rest himself; and
from this place, when, the tide served, he usually came
to London Bridge from Westminster by water, in order
that he might avoid the busy streets.
One evening, shortly before twilight, he came his ac-
customed road upon the river's bank, intending to pass
through Westminster Hall into Palace Yard, and there
take boat to London Bridge as usual. There was a
pretty large concourse of people assembled round the
Houses of Parliament, looking at the>-members as they
entered and departed, and giving vent to rather noisy
demonstrations of approval or dislike, according to their
known opinions. As he made his way among the throng,
he heard once or twice the No-Popery cry, which was
then becoming pretty familiar to the ears of most men ;
but holding it in very slight regard, and observing that
the idlers were of the lowest grade, he neither thought
nor cared about it, but made his way along, with perfect
indifference.
There were many little knots and groups of persons in
Westminster Hall: some few looking upward at its
noble ceiling, and at the rays of evening light, tinted by
the setting sun, which streamed in aslant through its
small windows, and growing dimmer by degrees, were
quenched in the gathering gloom below; some, noisy
passengers, mechanics going home from work, and other-
wise, who hurried quickly through, waking the echoes
with their voices, and soon darkening the small door in
the distance, as they passed into the street beyond; some,
in busy conference together on political or "private mat-
ters, pacing slowly up and down with eyes that sought
the ground, and seeming, by their attitudes, to listen
earnestly from head to foot. Here, a dozen squabbling
172
BAItNABY RODGE.
urchins made a very Babel in the air; there, a solitary
man, half clerk, half mendicant, paced up and down
with hungry dejection in his look and gait: at his elbow
passed an errand-lad, swinging his basket round and
round, and with his shrill whistle riving the very timbers
of the roof; while a more observant school-boy, half-way
through, pocketed his ball, and eyed the distant beadle
as he came looming on. It was that time of evening
when if you shut your eyes and open them again, the
darkness of an hour appears to have gathered in a
second. The smooth-worn pavement, dusty with foot-
steps, still called upon the lofty walls to reiterate the
shuffle and the tread of feet unceasingly, save when the
closing of some heavy door resounded through the build-
ing like a clap of thunder, and drowned all other noises
in its rolling sound.
Mr. Haredale, glancing only at such of these groups
as he passed nearest to, and then in a manner betokening
that his thoughts were elsewhere, had nearly traversed
the Hall, when two persons before him caught his att'en-
tion. One of these, a gentleman in elegant attire, car-
ried in his hand a cane, which he twirled in a jaunty
manner as he loitered on; the other, an obsequious,
crouching, fawning figure, listened to what he said — at
times throwing in a humble word himself— and, with
his shoulders shrugged up to his ears, rubbed his hands
submissively, or answered at intervals by an inclination
of the head, half-way between a nod of acquiescence, and
a bow of most profound respect.
In the abstract there was nothing very remarkable in
this pair, for servility waiting on a handsome suit of
clothes and a cane — not to speak of gold and silver
sticks, or wands of offlce — is common enough. But
BARNABY RUDGE.
178
there was that about the well-dressed man, yes, and
about the other likewise, which struck Mr. Haredale
with no pleasant feeling. He hesitated, stopped, and
would have stepped aside and turned out of his path, but
at the moment, the other two faced about quickly, and
stumbled upon him before he could avoid them.
The gentleman with the cane lifted his hat and had
begun to tender an apology, which Mr. Haredale had
begun as hastily to acknowledge and walk away, when
he stopped short and cried, " Haredale ! Gad bless me,
this is strange indeed ! "
" It is," he returned impatiently ; " yes — a " —
" My dear friend," cried the other, detaining him,
" why Such great speed ? One minute, Haredale, for
the sake of old acquaintance."
" I am in haste," he said. " Neither of us has sought
this meeting. Let it be a brief one. Good-night! "
" Fie, fie !" replied Sir John (for it was he), " how
very churlish! We were speaking of you. Your name
was on my lips — perhaps you heard me mention it ?
No? I am sorry for that. I am really sorry. — You
know our friend here, Haredale; this is really a most
remarkable meeting!"
The friend, plainly very ill at ease, had made bold to
press Sir John's arm, and to give him other significant
hints that he was desirous of avoiding this introduction.
As it did not suit Sir John's purpose, however, that it
should be evaded, he appeared quite unconscious of
these silent remonstrances, and inclined his hand tow-
ards him, as he spoke, to call attention to him more
particularly.
The friend, therefore, had nothing for it, but to muster
up the pleasantest smile he could, and to make a con-
174
BARNABY RUDGE.
ciliatory bow as Mr. Haredale turned his eyes upon him.
Seeing that he was recognized, he put out his hand in
an awkward and embarrassed manner, which was not
mended by its contemptuous rejection.
" Mr. Gashford ! " said Haredale, coldly. " It is as I
have heard then. You have left the darkness for the
light, sir, and hate those whose opinions you formerly
held, with all the bitterness of a renegade. You are an
honor, sir, to any cause. I wish the one you espouse
at present, much joy of the acquisition it has made."
The secretary rubbed his hands and bowed, as though
he would disarm his adversary by humbling himself be-
fore him. Sir John Chester again exclaimed, with an
air of great gayety, " Now, really, this is a most remark-
able meeting! " and took a pinch of snuff with his usual
self-possession.
" Mr. Haredale," said Gashford, stealthily raising his
eyes, and letting them drop again when they met the
other's steady gaze, " is too conscientious, too honorable,
too manly, I am sure, to attach unworthy motives to an
honest change of opinions, even though it implies a doubt
of those he holds himself. Mr. Haredale is too just,
too generous, too clear-sighted in his moral vision,
to" —
" Yes, sir ? " he rejoined with a sarcastic smile, finding
that the secretary stopped. " You were saying " —
Gashford meekly shrugged his shoulders, and looking
on the ground again, was silent.
"No, but let us really," interposed Sir John at this
juncture, " let us really, for a moment, contemplate tlie
very remarkable character of this meeting. Haredale,
my dear friend, pardon me if I think you are not suf-
liciently impressed with its singularity. Here we stand,
BARNABY BUDGE.
17 b
by no previous appointment or arrangement, three old
schoolfellows, in Westminster Hall: three old boarders
in a remarkably dull and shady seminary at St. Omer's,
where you, being Catholics, and of necessity educated
out of England, were brought up: and where I, being a
promising young Protestant at that time, was sent to
learn the French tongue from a native of Paris!"
" Add to the singularity, Sir John," said Mr. Hare-
dale, " that some of you Protestants of promise are at
this moment leagued in yonder building, to prevent our
having the surpassing and unheard-of privilege of teach-
ing our children to read and write — here—in this land,
where thousands of us enter your service every year,
and to preserve the freedom of which, we die in bloody
battles abroad, in heaps; and that others of you, to the
number of some thousands as I learn, are led on to look
on all men of ray creed as wolves and beasts of prey, by
this man Gashford. Add to it besides, the bare fact that
this man lives in society, walks the streets in broad day —
I was about to say, holds up his head, but that he does not
— and it will be strange, and very strange, I grant you."
" Oh! you are hard upon our friend," replied Sir
John, with an engaging smile. " You are really very
hard upon our friend !"
" Let him go on, Sir John," said Gashford, fumbling
with his gloves. " Let him go on, I can make allow-
ances, Sir John. J am honored with your good opinion,
and I can dispense with Mr. Haredale's. Mr. Hare-
dale is a sufferer from the penal laws, and I can't ex-
pect his favor."
" You have so much of my favor, sir," retorted Mr.
Haredale, with a bitter glance at the third party in their
conversation, " that J am glad to see you in such good
176
BARNABY RUDGE.
company. You are the essence of your great Associa-
tion, in yourselves."
" Now, there you mistake," said Sir John, in his most
benignant way. "There—* which is a most remarkable
circumstance for a man of your punctuality and exact-
ness, Haredale — you fall into an error. I don't belong
to the body; I have an immense respect for its members,
but I don't belong to it; although I am, it is certainly
true, the conscientious opponent of your being relieved.
I feel it my duty to be so; it is a most unfortunate ne-
cessity; and cost me a bitter struggle. — Will you try
this box ? If you don't object to a trifling infusion of a
very chaste scent, you'll find its flavor exquisite."
" I ask your pardon, Sir John," said Mr. Haredale,
declining the proffer with a motion of his hand, " for
having ranked you among the humble instruments who
are obvious and in all men's sight. I should have done
more justice to your genius. Men of your capacity plot
in secrecy and safety, and leave exposed posts to the
duller wits."
" Don't apologize, for the world," replied Sir John
sweetly; " old friends like you and me, may be allowed
some freedoms, or the deuse is in it."
Gashford, who had been very restless all this time,
but had not once looked up, now turned to Sir John, and
ventured to mutter something to the effect that he must
go, or my lord would perhaps be waiting.
" Don't distress yourself, good sir," said Mr. Haredale,
" I'll take my leave, and put you at your ease " — which
he was about to do without ceremony, when he was
stayed by a buzz and murmur at the upper end of the
hall, and, looking in that direction, saw Lord George
Gordon coming on, with a crowd of people round him.
BAKNABY RUDGE.
177
There was a lurking look of triumph, though very
differently expressed, in the faces of his two companions,
which made it a natural impulse on Mr. Haredale's part
not to give way before this leader, but to stand there
while he passed. He drew himself up and, clasping
his hands behind him, looked on with a proud and scorn-
ful aspect, while Lord George slowly advanced (for the
press was great about him) towards the spot where they
were standing.
He had left the House of Commons but that moment,
and had come straight down into the Hall, bringing with
him, as his custom was, intelligence of what had been
said that night in reference to the Papists, and what
petitions had been presented in their favor, and who had
supported them, and when the bill was to be brought in,
and when it would be advisable to present their own
Great Protestant petition. All this he told the persons
about him in a loud voice, and with great abundance of
ungainly gesture. Those who were nearest him made
comments to each other, and vented threats and mur-
murings; those who were outside the crowd cried
" Silence," and " Stand back," or closed in upon the
rest, endeavoring to make a forcible exchange of places:
and so they came driving on in a very disorderly and
irregular way, as it is the manner of a crowd to do. 1
When they were very near to where the Secretary,
Sir John, and Miv Haredale stood, Lord George turned
round and, making a few remarks of a sufficiently vio-
lent and incoherent kind, concluded with the usual sen-
timent, and called for three cheers to back it. While
these were in the act of being given with great energy,
he extricated himself from the press, and stepped up to
Sashford's side. Both he and Sir John being well
VAI. VI 19.
178
BARNABY RUDGE.
known to the populace, they fell back a little, and lefl
the four standing together.
" Mr. Haredale, Lord George," said Sir John Chester,
seeing that the nobleman regarded him with an inquisi-
tive look. " A Catholic gentleman unfortunately —
most unhappily a Catholic — but an esteemed acqunin-
tance of mine, and once of Mr. Gashford's. My dear
Haredale, this is Lord George Gordon."
" I should have known that, had I been ignorant of
his lordship's person," said Mr. Haredale. " I hope
there is but one gentleman in England who, address-
ing an ignorant and excited throng, would speak of a
large body of his fellow-subjects in such injurious lan-
guage as I heard this moment. For shame, my lord, for
shame!"
" I cannot talk to you, sir," replied Lord George in a
loud voice, and waving his hand in a disturbed and agi-
tated manner; " we have nothing in common."
" We have much in common — many things — all that
the Almighty gave us," said Mr. Haredale ; " and com-
mon charity, not to say common sense and common de-
cency, should teach you to refrain from these proceed-
ings. If every one of those men had arms in their
hands at this moment, as they have them in their heads,
I would not leave this place without telling you that you
disgrace your station."
" I don't hear you, sir," he replied in the same manner
as before ; " I can't hear you. It is indifferent to me
what you say. Don't retort, Gashford," for the secretary
had made a show of wishing to do so ; "I can hold no
communion with the worshippers of idols."
As he said this, he glanced at Sir John, who lifted his
hands and eyebrows, as if deploring the intemperate
BARNABY BUDGE.
179
conduct of Mr. Haredale, and smiled in admiration of
the crowd and of their leader.
" He retort! " cried Haredale. " Look you here, my
lord. Do you know this man ? "
Lord George replied by laying his hand upon the
shoulder of his cringing secretary, and viewing him with
a smile of confidence.
" This man," said Mr. Haredale, eying him from top
to toe, " who in his boyhood was a thief, and has been
trom that time to this, a servile, false, and truckling
knave: this man, who has crawled and crept through
life, wounding the bands he licked, and biting those he
fawned upon: this sycophant, who never knew what
honor, truth, or courage meant; who robbed his benefac-
tor's daughter of her virtue, and married her td break
her heart, and did it with stripes and cruelty: this crea-
ture who has whined at kitchen windows for the broken
food, and begged for halfpence at our chapel doors: this
apostle of the faith, whose tender conscience cannot
bear the altars where his vicious life was publicly de-
nounced. — Do yon know this man?"
"Oh, really — you are very, very hard upon our
friend! " exclaimed Sir John.
* Let Mr. Haredale go on," said Gashford, upon whose
unwholesome face the perspiration had broken out dur-
ing this speech, in blotches of wet; " I don't mind him,
Sir John ; it's quite as indifferent to me what he says, as
it is to my lord. If he reviles my lord, as you have
heard, Sir John, how can 1 hope to escape ? "
Is it not enough, my lord," Mr. Haredale continued^
"that I, as good a gentleman as you, must hold my prop-
erty, such as it is, by a trick at which the state connives
because of these hard laws; and that we may not teach
180
BABXABY BUDGE.
our youth in schools the common principles/of right and
wrong; but must we be denounced and ridden by such
men as this! Here is a man to head your No-Popery
cry! For shame. For shame!"
The infatuated nobleman had glanced more than once
at Sir John Chester, as if to inquire whether there was
any truth in these statements concerning Gashford, and
Sir John had as often plainly answered by * shrug or
look, " Oh dear me ! no." He now said, in the same
loud key, and in the same strange manner as before:
" I have nothing to say, sir, in reply, and no desire to
hear anything more. I beg you won't obtrude your con-
versation, or these personal attacks, upon me. I shall
not be deterred from doing my duty to my country and
my countrymen, by any such attempts, whether they
proceed from emissaries of the Pope or not, I assure
you. Come, Gashford! "
They had walked on. a few paces while speaking, and
were now at the Hall-door, through which they passed
together. Mr. Haredale, without any leave-taking,
turned away to the river stairs, which were close at
hand, and hailed the only boatman who remained there.
But the throng of people — the foremost of whom had
heard every word that Lord George Gordon said, and
among all of whom the rumor had been rapidly dis-
persed that the stranger was a papist who was bearding
him for his advocacy of the popular cause — came pour-
ing out pell-mell, and, forcing the nobleman, his secre-
tary, and Sir John Chester on before them, so that they
appeared to be at their head, crowded to the top of the
6tairs where Mr. Haredale waited until the boat was
ready, and there stood still, leaving him on a little clear
space by himself.
BARNABV RUDGE.
181
They were not silent, however, though inactive. At
first some indistinct mutterings arose among them, which
were followed by a hiss or two, and these swelled by de-
grees into a perfect storm. Then one voice said, " Down
with the Papists!" and there was a pretty general cheer,
but nothing more. After a lull of a few moments, one
man cried out, " Stone him ; " another, " Duck him an-
other; in a stentorian voice, " No Popery ! " This favor-
ite cry the rest reechoed, and the mob, which might have
been two hundred strong, joined in a general shout.
Mr. Haredale had stood calmly on the brink of the
steps, until they made this demonstration, when he
looked round contemptuously, and walked at a slow pace
down the stairs. He was pretty near the boat, when
Gashford, as if without intention, turned about, and di-
rectly afterwards a great stone was thrown by some
hand, in the crowd, which struck him on the head, and
made him stagger like a drunken man.
The blood sprung freely from the wound, and trickled
down his coat. He turned directly back, and rushing
up the steps with a boldness and passion which made
them all fall back, demanded: , , ;
" Who did that ? Show me the man who hit me."
Not a soul moved ; except some in the rear who slunk
off, and, escaping to the other side of the way, looked on
like indifferent spectators.
" Who did that ? " he repeated. " Show me the man
who did it. Dog, was it you ? It was your deed, if not
your hand — I know you."
He threw himself on Gashford as he said the words,
and hurled him to the ground. There was a sudden
motion in the crowd, and some laid hands upon him, but
his sword was out, and they fell off again.
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BARNABY BUDGE.
" My lord — Sir John," —he cried, " draw, one ot
you —you are responsible for this outrage, and I look to
you. Draw, if you are gentlemen." With that he
struck Sir John upon the breast with the flat of bis
weapon, and with a burning face and flashing eyes,
stood upon his guard; alone, before them all.
For an instant, for the briefest space of time the mind
can readily conceive, there was a change in Sir John's
smooth face, such as no man ever saw there. The next
moment, he stepped forward, and laid one hand on
Mr. Haredale's arm, while with the other he endeavored
to appease the crowd.
" My dear friend, my good Haredale, you are blinded
with passion — it's very natural, extremely natural—
but you don't know friends from foes."
u I know them all, sir, I can distinguish well " — he
retorted, almost mad with rage. "Sir John, Lord
George — do you hear me ? Are you cowards ? "
" Never mind, sir," said a man, forcing his way be-
tween and pushing him towards the stairs with friendly
violence, "never mind asking that. For God's sake,
get away. What can you do against this number?
And there are as many more in the next street, who'll
be round directly," •— indeed they began to pour in as
he said the words —" you'd be giddy from that cut, in
the first heat of a scuffle. Now do retire, sir, or take
my word for it you'll be worse used than you would be
if every man in the crowd was a woman, and that
woman Bloody Mary. Come, sir, make haste — as
quick as you can."
Mr. Haredale, who began to turn faint and sick, felt
how sensible this advice was, and descended the steps
with his unknown friend's assistance. John Grueby (for
BARNABY BUDGE.
183
John it was) helped him into the boat, and giving her a
shove off, which sent her thirty feet into the tide, bade
"the waterman pull away like a Briton; and walked up
again as composedly as if he had just landed.
There was at first a slight disposition on the part of
he mob to resent this interference; but John looking
particularly strong and cool, and wearing besides Lord
George's livery, they thought better of it, and contented
themselves with sending a shower of small missiles after
the boat, which plashed harmlessly in the water ; for she
had by this time cleared the bridge, and was darting
swiftly down the centre of the stream.
From this amusement, they proceeded to giving Prot-
estant knocks at the doors of private houses, breaking a
few lamps, and assaulting some stray constables. But, it
being whispered that a detachment of Life Guards had
been sent for, they took to their heels with great eitpe-
dition, and left the street quite clear,
184
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER XLIV.
When the concourse separated, and, dividing into
chance clusters, drew off in various directions, there still
remained upon the scene of the late disturbance, one
man. This man was Gashford, who, bruised by his late
fall, and hurt in a much greater degree by the indignity
he had undergone, and the exposure of which he had
been the victim, limped up and down, breathing curses
and threats of vengeance.
It was not the secretary's nature to waste his wrath in
words. While he vented the froth of his malevolence
in these effusions, he kept a steady eye on two men,
who, having disappeared with the rest when the alarm
was spread, had since returned, and were now visible in
the moonlight, at no great distance, as they walked to
and fro, and talked together.
He made no move towards them, but waited patiently
on the dark side of the street, until they were tired of
strolling backwards and forwards and walked away in
company. Then he followed, but at some distance:
keeping them in view, without appearing to have that
object, or being seen by them.
They went up Parliament-street, past Saint Martin's
church, and away by Saint Giles' to Tottenham Court
Road, at the back of which, upon the western side, was
then a place called the Green Lanes. This was a retired
spot, not of the choicest kind, leading into the fields.
BARNABY RUDGE.
185
Great iieaps of ashes; stagnant pools, overgrown with
rank grass and duckweed; broken turnstiles; and the
upright posts of palings long since carried off for fire-
wood, which menaced all heedless walkers with their
jagged and.ru-ty nails; were the leading features of
the landscape; while here and there a donkey, or a
ragged horse, tethered to a stake, and cropping off a
wretched meal from the coarse stunted turf, were quite
in keeping with the scene, and would have suggested
(if the houses had not done so, sufficiently, of them-
selves) how very poor the people were who lived in
the crazy huts adjacent, and how foolhardy it might
prove for one who carried money, or wore decent
clothes, to walk that way alone, unless by daylight.
Poverty has its whims and shows of taste, as wealth
has. Some of these cabins were turreted, some had
false windows painted on their rotten walls; one had
a mimic clock, upon a crazy tower of four feet high,
which screened the chimney; each in its little patch of
ground had a rude seat or arbor. The population dealt
in bones, in rags, in broken glass, in old wheels, in birds,
and dogs. These, in their several ways of stowage,
filled the gardens; and shedding a perfume, not of the
most delicious nature, in the air, filled it besides with
yelps, and screams, and howling.
Into this retreat, the secretary followed the two men
whom he had held in sight; and here he saw them safely
lodged, in one of the meanest houses, which was but a
room, and that of small dimensions. He waited without,
until the sound of their voices, joined in a discordant
song, assured him they were making merry; and then
approaching the door, by means of a tottering plank
which crossed the ditch in front, knocked at it with
his hand.
186
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Muster Gashford!" said the man who opened It,
taking his pipe from his mouth, in evident surprise.
"Why, who'd have thought of this here honor! Walk
in, Muster Gashford — walk in, sir."
Gashford required no second invitation* and entered
with a gracious air. There was a fire in the rusty grate
(for though the spring was pretty far advanced, the
nights were cold), and on a stool beside U Hugh sat
smoking. Dennis placed a chair, his only one, for the
secretary, in front of the hearth ; and took his seat again
upon the stool he had .left when he rose to give the visitor
admission.
" What's in the wind now, Muster Gashford ?" he
said, as he resumed his pipe, and looked at him askew.
" Any orders from head-quarters ? Are we going to
begin? What is it, Muster Gashford?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing," rejoined the secretary with
a friendly nod to Hugh. "We have broken the ice,
though. We had a little spurt to-day — eh, Dennis ? "
" A very little one," growled the hangman. " Not
half enough for me."
" Nor me neither!" cried Hugh. " Give us some-
thing to do with life in it — with life in it, master.
Ha, ha!"
"Why, you wouldn't," said the secretary, with his
worst expression of face, and in his mildest tones, * have
inything to do, with — with death in it? "
" I don't know that," replied Hugh. " I'm open te
orders. I don't care; not I."
" Nor I!" vociferated Dennis.
" Brave fellows! " said the secretary, in as pastor-like
a voice as if he were commending them for some un-
common act of valor and generosity. " By the by," —
BARNABY BUDGE.
187
and here he stopped and warmed his hands : then sud-
denly looked up — " who threw that stone to-day ? "
Mr. Dennis coughed and shook his head, as who
should say, " A mystery indeed ! " Hugh sat and
smoked in silence.
" It was well done ? " said the secretary, warming hi
hands again. " I should like to know that man."
" Would you ? " said Dennis, after looking at his face
to assure himseif that he was serious. " Would you like
to know that man, Muster Gashford?"
" I should indeed," replied the secretary.
" Why then, Lord love you," said the hangman, in his
hoarsest chuckle, as he pointed with his pipe to Hugh,
u there he sets. That's the man. My stars and halters,
Muster Gashford," he added in a whisper, as he drew
his stool close to him and jogged him with his elbow,
" what a interesting blade he is! He wants as much
holding in as a thoroagh-bred bull-dog. If it hadn't been
for me to-day, he'd have had that 'ere Roman down, and
made a riot of it, in another minute."
" And why not ? " cried Hugh in a surly voice, as he
overheard this last remark. " Where's the good of put-
ting things off? Strike while the iron's hot ; that's what
I say."
" Ah!" retorted Dennis, shaking his head, with a
kind of pity for his friend's ingenuous youth; " but
suppose the iron a'n't hot, brother? You must get
people's blood up afore you strike, and have 'em in
the humor. There wasn't quite enough to provoke 'em
to-day, I tell you. If you'd had your way, you'd have
spoilt the fun to come, and ruined us."
" Dennis is quite right," said Gashford, smoothly,
4 He is perfectly correct. Dennis has great knowledge
af the world." 0
188
BARNABY BUDGE.
"I ought to have, Muster Gashford, seeing what a
many people I've helped out of it, eh ?" grinned the
hangman, whispering the words behind his hand.
The secretary laughed at this, just as much as Dennis
could desire, and when he had done, said, turning to
Hugh:—
" Dennis's policy was mine, as you may have oh-
served. You saw, for instance, how I fell when I
was set upon. I made no resistance. I did nothing
to provoke an outbreak. Oh dear no!"
" No, by the Lord Harry!" cried Dennis with a noisy
laugh, " you went down very quiet, Muster Gashford —
and very flat besides. I thinks to myself at the time
' it's all up with Muster Gashford!' I never see a man
lay flatter nor more still — with the life in him — than
you did to-day. He's a rough 'un to play with, is that
'ere Papist, and that's the fact."
The secretary's face, as Dennis roared with laughter,
and turned his wrinkled eyes on Hugh who did the like,
might have furnished a study for the Devil's picture.
He sat quite silent until they were serious again, and
then said, looking round : —
" We are very pleasant here; so very pleasant, Dennis,
that but for my lord's particular desire that I should sup
with him, and the time being very near at hand, I should
be inclined to stay, until it would be hardly safe to go
homeward. I come upon a little business — yes, I do —
as you supposed. It's very flattering to you ; being this.
If we ever should be obliged — and we can't tell, you
know — this is a very uncertain world " —
" I believe you, Muster Gashford," interposed the
hangman with a grave nod. " The uncertainties as
I've seen in reference to this here state of existence,
BARNABY RUDGE.
189
the unexpected contingencies as have come about! —
Oh my eye!" Feeling the subject much too vast for
expression, he puffed at his pipe again, and looked the
rest.
" I say," resumed the secretary, in a slow, impressive
way; " we can't tell what may come to pass; and if we
should be obliged against our wills, to have recourse to
violence, my lord (who has suffered terribly to-day, as
far as words can go) consigns to you two — bearing in
mind my recommendation of you both, as good stanch
men, beyond all doubt and suspicion — the pleasant task
of punishing this Haredale. You may do as you please
with him or his, provided that you show no mercy, and
no quarter, and leave no two beams of his house stand-
ing where the builder placed them. You may sack it,
burn it, do with it as you like, but it must come down ;
it must be razed to the ground; and he, and all belong-
ing to him, left as shelterless as new-born infants whom
their mothers have exposed. Do you understand me ? "
said Gashford, pausing and pressing his hands together
gently.
" Understand you, master !" cried Hugh. " You speak
plain now. Why, this is hearty ! "
"I knew you would like it," said Gashford, shaking
him by the hand ; " I thought you would. Good-night 1
Don't rise, Dennis: I would rather find my way alone.
I may have to make other visits here, and it's pleasant
to come and go without disturbing you. I can find my
way perfectly well. Good-night! "
He was gone, and had shut the door behind him.
They looked at each other, and nodded approvingly:
Dennis stirred up the fire.
"This looks a little more like business!" he said
BABNABY BUDGE.
" Ay, indeed ! " cried Hugh ; " this suits me ! "
" I've heerd it said of Muster Gashford," said the
hangman, " that he'd a surprising memory and wonder-
ful firmness — that he never forgot, and never forgave.
— Let's drink his health ! " T
Hugh readily complied — pouring no liquor on the
floor when he drank this toast — and they pledged the
secretary as a man after their own hearts in a bum-
per
BARNABY BUDGE.
191
CHAPTER XXV.
While the worst passions of the worst men we«
thus working in the dark, and the mantle of religion,
assumed to cover the ugliest deformities, threatened to
become the shroud of all that was good and peaceful
in society, a circumstance occurred which once more al-
tered the position of two persons from whom this history
has long been separated, and to whom it must now
return.
In a small English country town, the inhabitants of
which supported themselves by the labor of their hands
in plaiting and preparing straw for those who made
bonnets and other articles of dress and ornament from
that material, —- concealed under an assumed name, and
living in a quiet poverty which knew no change, no
pleasures, and few cares but that of struggling on from
day to day in the one great toil for bread, — dwelt
Barnaby and his mother. Their poor cottage had
known no stranger's foot since they sought the shelter
of its roof five years before; nor had they in all that
time held any commerce or communication with the old
world from which they had fled. To labor in peace
and devote her labor and her life to her poor son, was
all the widow sought. If happiness can be said at any
time to be the lot of one on whom a secret sorrow
preys, she was happy now. Tranquillity, resignation, and
her strong love of him who needed it so much, formed
192
BARNABY RUDGB.
the small circle of her quiet joys; and while that re-
mained unbroken, she was contented.
For Barnaby himself, the time which had flown by,
had passed him like the wind. The daily suns of years
had shed no brighter gleam of reason on his mind; no
dawn had broken on his long, dark night. He would
sit sometimes — often for days together — on a low seat
by the fire or by the cottage-door, busy at work (for he
had learnt the art his mother plied), and listening, God
help him, to the tales she would repeat as a lure to keep
him in her sight. He had no recollection of these little
narratives; the tale of yesterday was new upon the mor-
row; but he liked them at the moment; and when the
humor held him, would remain patiently within doors,
hearing her stories like a little child, and working cheer-
fully from sunrise until it was too dark to see.
At other times, — and then their scanty earnings were
barely sufficient to furnish them with food, though of the
coarsest sort, — he would wander abroad from dawn of
day until the twilight deepened into night. Few in that
place, even of the children, could be idfe, and he had no
companions of his own kind. Indeed there were not
many who could have kept up with him in his rambles,
had there been a legion. But there were a score of
vagabond dogs belonging to the neighbors, who served
his purpose quite as well. With two or three of these,
or sometimes with a full half-dozen barking at his heels,
he would sally forth on some long expedition that con-
sumed the day ; and though on their return at nightfall,
the dogs would come home limping, and sore-footed, and
almost spent with their fatigue, Barnaby was up and off"
again at sunrise with some new attendants of the same
class, with whom he would return in like manner. On
BARNABY BUDGE.
198
all these travels, Grip, in his little basket at his master's
back, was a constant member of the party, and when
they set off in fine weather and in high spirits, no dog
barked louder than the raven.
Their pleasures on these excursions were simple
jnough. A crust of bread and scrap of meat, with
water from the brook or spring, sufficed for their repast.
Barnaby's enjoyments were, to walk, and run, and leap,
till he was tired ; then to lie down on the long grass, or
by the growing corn, or in the shade of some tall tree,
looking upward at the light clouds as they floated over
the blue surface of the sky, and listening to the lark as
she poured out her brilliant song. There were wild-
flowers to pluck — the bright red poppy, the gentle hare-
bell, the cowslip, and the rose. There were birds to
watch; fish; ants; worms; hares or rabbits, as they
darted across the distant pathway in the wood and so
were gone : millions of living things to have an interest
in, and lie in wait for, and clap hands and shout in mem-
ory of, when they had disappeared. In default of these,
or when they wearied, there was the merry sunlight to
hunt out, as it crept in aslant through leaves and boughs
of trees, and hid far down — deep, deep, in hollow places
— like a silver pool, where nodding branches seemed to
bathe and sport; sweet scents of summer air breathing
over fields of beans or clover ; the perfume of wet leaves
or moss; the life of waving trees, and shadows always
changing. When these or any of them tix-ed, or in ex-
cess of pleasing tempted him to shut his eyes, there was
slumber in the midst of all these soft delights, with the
gentle wind murmuring like music in his ears, and every-
thing around melting into one delicious dream.
Their hut — for it was little more — stood on the out-
vox., ii. 13
194
BARNABY RUIXJE.
skirts of the town, at a short distance from the high-road,
but in a secluded place, where few chance passengers
strayed at any season of the year. It had a plot of gaf-
den-ground attached, which Barnaby, in fits and starts
of working, trimmed, and kept in order. Within doors
and without, his mother labored for their eomrnon good;
and hail, rain, show, or sunshine, found no difference lit
her.
Though so far removed from the scenes 6f her past
life, and with so little thought or hope of eve* visiting
them again, she seemed to have a strange desire to know
what happened in the busy world. Any old newspaper,
or Scrap of intelligence from London, she caught at with
avidity. The excitement it produced was not of a pleas-
urable kind, for her manner at such times expressed the
keenest anxiety and dread ; but it never faded in the
least degree. Then, and in stormy winter nights, whefi
the wind blew loud and strong, the old expression came
into her face, and she would be seized with a fit of
trembling, like one who had an ague. But Barnaby
noted little of this; and putting a great constraint upon
herself, she usually recovered her accustomed manner
before the change had caught his observation.
Grip was by no means an idle or unprofitable member
of the humble household. Partly by dint of Barnaby**
tuition, and partly by pursuing a species of self-instruc-
tion common to his tribe, and exerting his powers of
observation to the utmost, he bad acquired a degree 6f
agacity which rendered him famous for miles round.
His conversational powers and surprising performances
were the universal theme: and as many persons came
to see the wonderful raven, and none left his exertions
unrewarded — when he condescended to exhibit, which
BARNABY KUDGE.
195
was not always, for genius is capricious — his earnings
formed an important item in the common stock. Indeed,
the bird himself appeared to know his value well; for
though he was perfectly free and unrestrained in tho
presence of Barnaby and his mother, he maintained in
public an amazing gravity, and never stooped to any
other gratuitous performances than biting the ankles of
vagabond boys (an exercise in which he much de-
lighted), killing a fowl or two occasionally, and swal-
lowing the dinners of various neighboring dogs, of
whom the boldest held him in great awe and dread.
Time had glided on in this way, and nothing had hap-
pened to disturb or change their mode of life, when, one
summer's night in June, they were in their little garden,
resting from the labors of the day. The widow's work
was yet upon her knee, and strewn upon the ground
about her; and Barnaby stood leaning on his spade,
gazing at the brightness in the west, and singing softly
to himself.
" A brave evening, mother! If we had, chinking in
our pockets, but a few specks of that gold which is piled
up yonder in the sky, we should be rich for life."
" We are better as we are," returned the widow with
a quiet smile. " Let us be contented, and we do not
want and need not care to have it, though it lay shin
ing at our feet."
"Ay!" said Barnaby, resting with crossed arms on.
bis spade, and looking wistfully at the sunset, " that's
well enough, mother; but gold's a good thing to have.
I wish that I knew where to find it. Grip and I could
<k> much with gold, be sure of that."
" What would you do ? " she asked
"What! A world of things. Wed dress finely—?.
196
BARNABY RUDGE.
you and I, I mean; not Grip — keep horses, dogs,
wear bright colors and feathers, do no more work, live
delicately and at our ease. Oh, we'd find uses for it,
mother, and uses that would do us good. I would I
knew where gold was buried. How hard I'd work to
dig it up! "
" You do not know," said his mother, rising from her
seat, and laying her hand upon his shoulder, " what
men have done to win it, and how they have found,
too late, that it glitters brightest at a distance, and turns
quite dim and dull when handled."
" Ay, ay; so you say; so you think," he answered,
still looking eagerly in the same direction. " For all
that, mother, I should like to try."
'• Do you not see," she said, " how red it is ? Nothing
bears so many stains of blood, as gold. Avoid it. None
have such cause to hate its name as we have. Do not
so much as think of it, dear love. It has brought such
misery and suffering on your head and mine as few
have known, and God grant few may have to undergo.
I would rather we were dead and laid down in our
graves, than you should ever come to love it."
For a moment Barnaby withdrew his eyes and looked
at her with wonder. Then, glancing from the redness
in the sky to the mark upon his wrist as if he would
compare the two, he seemed about to question her with
earnestness, when a new object caught his wander
ing attention, and made him quite forgetful of his
purpose.
This was a man with dusty feet and garments, who
stood, bareheaded, behind the hedge that divided their
patch of garden from the pathway, and leant meekly
forward as if he sought to mingle with their eonver-
BARNABY BUDGE. 197
sation, and waited for his time to speak. His face
was turned towards the brightness, too, but the light
that fell upon it showed that he was blind, and saw
it not.
" A blessing on those voices ! " said the wayfarer. " I
feel the beauty of the night more keenly, when I hear
them. They are like eyes to me. Will they speak
again, and cheer the heart of a poor traveller ? "
"Have you no guide?" asked the widow, after a
moment's pause.
"None but that," he answered, pointing with his
staff towards the sun; " and sometimes a milder one at
night, but she is idle now."
" Have you travelled far ? "
" A weary way and long," rejoined the traveller as he
shook his head. " A weary, weary, way. I struck my
stick just now upon the bucket of your well — be
please# to let me have a draught of water, lady."
" Why do you call me lady ? " she returned. " I am
as poor as you."
" Your speech is soft and gentle, and I judge by
that," replied the man. " The coarsest stuffs and finest
silks, are — apart from the sense of touch — alike to
me. I cannot judge you by your dress."
" Come round this way," said Barnaby, who had
passed out at the garden gate and now stood close be-
side him. " Put your hand in mine. You're blind and
always in the dark, eh ? Are you frightened in the
lark ? Do you see great crowds of faces, now ? Do
ihey grin and chatter ? "
" Alas ! " returned the other, " I see nothing. Wak-
.ng or sleeping, nothing."
Barnaby looked curiously at his eyes, and touching
198 BARNABY RUDGE.
them with his fingers, as an inquisitive child might, led
him towards the house.
" You have come a long distance," said the widow,
meeting him at the door. " How have you found your
way so far?"
" Use and necessity are good teachers, as I have heard
.-the best of any," said the blind man, sitting down
upon the chair to which Barnaby had led him, and put-
ting his hat and stick upon the red-tiled floor. "May
neither you nor your son ever learn under them. They
are rough masters."
" You have wandered from the road, too," said the
widow, in a tone of pity.
" Maybe, maybe," returned the blind man with a sigh,
and yet with something of a smile upon his face, " thafs
likely. Hand-posts and milestones are dumb, indeed, to
me. Thank you the more for this rest, and this refresh-
ing drink ! " •
As he spoke, he raised the mug of water to his mouth.
It was clear, and cold, and sparkling, but not to his taste
nevertheless, or his thirst was not very great, for he only
wetted his lips and put it down again.
He wore, hanging with a long strap round his neck,
a kind of scrip or wallet, in which to carry food. The
widow set some bread and cheese before him, but he
thanked her, and said that through the kindness of the
charitable he had broken his fast once since morning,
and was not hungry. When he had made her this reply,
he opened his wallet, and took out a few pence, which
was all it appeared to contain.
" Might I make bold to ask," he said, turning towards
where Barnaby stood looking on, " that one who has the
gift of sight, would lay this out for me in bread to keep
BARNABY BUDGE.
199
me on my way ? Heaven's blessing on the young feet
that will bestir themselves in aid of one so helpless as a
Bightless man I"
Barnaby looked at his mother, who nodded assent;
in another moment he was gone upon his charitable
errand. The blind man sat listening with an attentive
face, until long after the sound of his retreating foot-
6teps was inaudible to the widow, and then said, sud-
denly, and in a very altered tone: —
" There are various degrees, and kinds of blindness,
widow. There is the connubial blindness, ma'am, which
perhaps you may have observed in the course of your
own experience, and which is a kind of wilful and self-
bandaging blindness. There is the blindness of party,
ma'am, and public men, which is the blindness of a mad
bull in the midst of a regiment of soldiers clothed in red.
There is the blind confidence of youth, which is the
blindness of young kittens, whose eyes have not yet
opened on the world; and there is that physical blind-
ness, ma'am, of which I am, contrairy to my own desire,
a most illustrious example. Added to these, ma'am, is
that blindness of the intellect, of which we have a spe-
cimen in your interesting son, and which, having some-
times glimmerings and dawnings of the light, is scarcely
to be trusted as a total darkness. Therefore, ma'am,
I have taken the liberty to get him out of the way for
a short time, while you and I confer together, and
this precaution arising out of the delicacy of my sen-
tiraents towards yourself, you \yill excuse me, ma'am,
I know."
Having delivered himself of this speech with many
flourishes of manner, he drew from beneath his coat $
flat stone bottle, and holding the pork between his teeth.
BARNABY BUDGE.
qualified his mug of water with a plentiful infusion of
the liquor it contained. He politely drained the bum-
per to her health, and the ladies, and setting it down
empty, smacked his lips with infinite relish.
" I am a citizen of the world, ma'am," said the blind
man, corking his bottle, " and if I seem to conduct my-
self with freedom, it is therefore. You wonder who I
am, ma'am, and what has brought me here. Such ex-
perience of human nature as I have, leads me to that
conclusion, without the aid of eyes by which to read
the movements of your soul as depicted in your femi-
nine features. I will satisfy your curiosity immediately,
ma'am; im-mediately." With that he slapped his hot-
tie on its broad back, and having put it under his gar-
ment as before, crossed his legs and folded his hands,
and settled himself in his chair, previous to proceeding
any further.
The change in his manner was so unexpected, the
craft and wickedness of his deportment were so much
aggravated by his condition — for we are accustomed to
see in those who have lost a human sense, something
in its place almost divine — and this alteration bred so
many fears in her whom he addressed, that she could not
pronounce one word. After waiting, as it seemed, for
some remark or answer, and waiting in vain, the visitor
resumed: —
" Madam, my name is Stagg. A friend of mine who
has desired the honor of meeting with you any time
these five years past, has commissioned me to call upon
you. I should be glad to whisper that gentleman's name
in your ear. — Zounds, ma'am, are you deaf ? Do you
hear me say that I should be glad to whisper my friend's
name in your ear I"
BARNABY BUDGE.
201
" You need not repeat it," said the widow, with a
stifled groan ; " I see too well from whom you come."
" But as a man of honor, ma'am," said the blind man,
striking himself on the breast, " whose credentials must
not be disputed, I take leave to say that I will mention
that gentleman's name. Ay, ay," he added, seeming to
catch with his quick ear the very motion of her hand,
" but not aloud. With your leave, ma'am, I desire the
favor of a whisper."
She moved towards him, and stooped down. He mut-
tered a word in her ear; and, wringing her hands, she
paced up and down the room like one distracted. The
blind man, with perfect composure, produced his bottle
again, mixed another glassful; put it up as before; and,
drinking from time to time, followed her with his face in
silence.
" You are slow in conversation, widow," he said after
a time, pausing in his draught. "We shall have to talk
before your son."
" What would you have me do ?" she answered.
"What do you want?"
"We are poor, widow, we are poor," he retorted,
stretching out his right hand, and rubbing his thumb
upon its palm.
" Poor! " she cried. " And what am I ? "
" Comparisons are odious," said the blind man. " I
don't know, I don't care. I say that we are poor. My
friend's circumstances are indifferent, and so are mine.
We must have our rights, widow, or we must be bought
off. But you know that, as well as I, so where is the
use of talking ? "
She still walked wildly to and fro. At length, stop-
ping abruptly before him, she said: —
202
BARNABY RUDGE.
44 Is he near here ? " '■
44 He is. Close at hand."
" Then I am lost!" ' »
" Not lost, widow," said the blind man, calmly; "only
found. Shall I call him ? "
44 Not for the world," she answered, with a shudder.
44 Very good," he replied, crossing his legs again, for
he had made as though he would rise and walk to the
door. 44 As you please, widow. His presence is not
necessary that I know of. But both he and I must live;
to live, we must eat and drink; to eat and drink, we
must have money : — I say no more."
44 Do you know how pinched and destitute I am?"
she retorted. 441 do not think you do, or can. > If you
had eyes, and could look around you on this poor place,
you would have pity on me. Oh! let your heart be
softened by your own affliction, friend, and have some
sympathy with mine."
The blind man snapped his fingers as he answered
—44 Beside the question, ma'am, beside the question.
I have the softest heart in the world, but I can't live
upon it. Many a gentleman lives well upon a soft head,
who would find a heart of the same quality a very great
drawback. Listen to me. This is a matter of business,
with which sympathies and sentiments have nothing to do.
As a mutual friend, I wish to arrange it in a satisfactory
manner, if possible; and thus the case stands.^-If you are
very poor now, it's your own choice. You have friends
who, in ease of need, are always ready to help you. My
friend is in a more destitute and desolate situation than
most men, and you and he being linked together in a
common cause, he naturally looks to you to assist him.
He has boarded and lodged with me a long time (for as
BARNABY RUDGE.
203
I said just now, I am very soft-hearted), and I quite ap-
prove of his entertaining this opinion.! You have always
had a roof over your head ; he has always been an out-
"ast. You have your son to comfort and Assist you ; he
has nobody at all. The advantages must not be all one
side. You are in the same boat, and we must divide
the ballast a little more equally."
She was about to speak, but he checked her, ami
went on.
" The only way of doing this, is by making up a Mttle
purse now and then for my friend; and that's what I
advise. He bears you no malice that I know of, ma'am:
so little, that although you have treated him harshly more
than once, and driven him, I may say, out of doors, he
has that regard for you that I believe, even if you disap-
pointed him now, he would consent to take charge of
your son, and to make a man of him."
He laid a great stress on these latter words, and
paused as if to find out what effect they had produced.
She only answered by her tears.
" He is a likely lad," said the blind man, thoughtfully,
" for many purposes, and not ill-disposed to try his for-
tune in a little change and bustle, if I may judge from
what I heard of his talk with you to-night. — Come. In
a word, my friend has pressing necessity for twenty
pounds. You, who can give up an annuity, can get that
sum for him. It's a pity you should be troubled. You
seem very comfortable here, and it's worth that much to
remain so. Twenty pounds, widow, is a moderate de-
raand. You know where to apply for it; a post will
bring it you. — Twenty pounds!"
She was about to answer him again, but again he
stopped her.
204 BARNABY RUDGE.
u Don't say anything hastily; you might be sorry for
it. Think of it a little while. Twenty pounds — of
other people's money — how easy! Turn it over in
your mind. I'm in no hurry. Night's coming on, and
if I don't sleep here, I shall not go far. Twenty pounds!
Consider of it, ma'am, for twenty minutes; give each
pound a minute ; that's a fair allowance. I'll enjoy the
air the while, which is very mild and pleasant in these
parts." t
With these words, he groped his way to the door, car-
rying his chair with him. Then seating himself, under a
spreading honeysuckle, and stretching his legs across the
threshold so that no person could pass in or out without
his knowledge, he took from his pocket a pipe, flint, steel,
and tinder-box, and began to smoke. It was a lovely
evening, of that gentle kind, and at that time of year,
when the twilight is most beautiful. Pausing now and
then to let his smoke curl slowly off, and to sniff the
grateful fragrance of the flowers, he sat there at his ease
— as though the cottage were his proper dwelling, and
he had held undisputed possession of it all his life—wait-
ing for the widow's answer and for Barnaby's return.
BARNABY RUDGE. 20ft
1 . CHAPTER XLVI. »
When Barnaby returned with the bread, the sight ot
the pious old pilgrim smoking his pipe and making him-
self so thoroughly at home, appeared to surprise even
him ; the more so, as that worthy person, instead of put-
ting up the loaf in his wallet as a scarce and precious
article, tossed it carelessly on the table, and producing
his bottle, bade him sit down and drink. -
* " For I carry some comfort you see," he said. "Taste
that. Is it good ? " 1
The water stood in Barnaby's eyes as he coughed
from the strength of the draught, and answered in the
affirmative. • 1
" Drink some more," said the Wind man; " don't be
afraid of it. You don't taste anything like that, often,
eh ?" ' - -
" Often !" cried Barnaby. " Never 1"
" Too poor ?" returned the blind man with a sigh.
" Ay. That's bad. Your mother, poor soul, would be
happier if she was richer, Barnaby."
"Why, so I tell her—the very thing I told her just
before you came to-night, when all that gold was in the
sky," said Barnaby, drawing his chair nearer to him, and
looking eagerly in his face. "Tell me. Is there any
way of being rich, that I could find out?"
" Any way ! A hundred ways."
" Ay, ay ? " he returned. " Do you say so ? What
206 ' BAKNABY BUDGE.
are they ? — Nay, mother, it's for your sake I ask ; not
mine ; — for yours indeed. What are they ? "
The blind man turned his face, on which there was a
smile of triumph, to where the widow stood in great dis-
tress ; and answered, —
" Why, they are not to be found out by stay-at-homes,
my good friend."
i « By stay-at-homes 1" cried Barnaby, plucking aA his
sleeve. _■« But I am not one. Now, there you mistake.
I am often out before the sun, and travel home when he
has gone to re?t., I am away in the woods before the
day has reached the shady places, and am often there
when the bright moon is peeping through the boughs,
and looking dowi\ upon the other moon that lives in
water. As I walk along, I try to find, among the grass
and moss, some of that small money for which she works
so hard and used to shed so many tears. As I lie asleep
in the shade, I dream of it — dream of digging it up in
heaps; and spying it out, hidden under bushes •, and
seeing it sparkle, as the dew-drops do, among the leaves.
But I never find it. Tell me where it is. I'd go there,
if the journey were a whole year long, because I know
she would be happier when I came home and brought
some with me. Speak agaim I'll listen to you if you
talk all night." , . |
The blind man passed his hand lightly over the poor
fellow's face, and finding that his elbows were planted
on the table, that his chin rested on his two hands, that
he leaned eagerly forward, and that his whole manner
expressed the utmost interest and anxiety, paused for a
minute as though he desired the widow to observe this
fully, and then made answer ;—. i
" It's in the world, bold Barnaby, the merry world;
BARNABY BUDGE. 207
not in solitary places like those you pass your time in,
but in crowds, and where there's noise and rattle."
" Good ! good !" cried Barnaby, rubbing his hands.
" Yes! I love that. Grip loVes it too. It suits us both.
That's brave!"
— "The kind of places," said the blind man, "thnta
young fellow likes, and in which a good son may do
more for his mother, and himself to boot, in a month,
than he could here in all his life — that is, if he had a
friend, you know, and some one to advise with."
"You hear this, mother?" cried Barnaby, turning to
Her with delight, i " Never tell me we shouldn't heed it,
if it lay shining at our feet. Why do we heed it so
much now ? Why do you toil from morning until
night ? "
" Surely," said the blind man, " surely. Have you
no answer, widow ? Is your mind," he slowly added,
"not made up yet?"
" Let me speak with you," she answered, " apart."
" Lay your hand upon my sleeve," said Stagg, rising
from the table; "and lead me where you will Cour-
age, bold Barnaby. We'll talk more of this; I've a
fancy for you. Wait there till I come back. Now,
widow." » s • i , ,
She led him out at the door, and into the little garden,
where they stopped.
" You are a fit agent," she said, in a half breathless
manner, " and well represent the man who sent you
here."
" I'll tell him that you said so," Stagg retorted. " He
has a regard for you, and will respect me the more (if
possible) for your praise. We must have our rights,
widow."
208
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Bights! Do you know," she said, " that a word from
MA »'
me —
" Why do you stop ? " returned the blind man calmly,
after a long pause. " Do I know that a word from you
would place myfriend in the last position of the dance
of life ? Yes, I do. What of that ? It will never be
spoken, widow."
"You are sure of that ? "
" Quite — so sure, that I don't come here to discuss
the question. I say we must have our rights, or we
must be bought off. Keep to that point, or let me re-
turn to my young friend, for I have an interest in the
lad, and desire to put him in the way of making his for-
tune. Bah! you needn't speak," he added hastily; " I
know what you would say: you have hinted at it once al-
ready. Have I no feeling for you, because I am blind ?
No, I have not. Why do you expect me, being in dark-
ness, to be better than men who have their sight — why
should you ? Is the hand of Heaven more manifest in
my having no eyes, than in your having two ? It's the
cant of you folks to be horrified if a blind man robs, or
lies, or steals; oh yes, it's far worse in him, who can barely
live on the few halfpence that are thrown to him in
streets, than in you, who can see, and work, and are
not dependent on the mercies of the world. A corse
on you ! You who have five senses may be wicked at
your pleasure ; we who have four, and want the most
important, are to live and be moral on our affliction.
The true charity and justice of rich to poor, all the
world over!"
He paused a moment when he had said these words,
and caught the sound of money, jingling in her hand.
" Well?" he cried, quickly resuming his former man-
BARNABY RUDGE.
209
ner. " That should lead to something. The point,
widow ? "
" First answer me one question," she replied. " You
say he is close at hand. Has he left London ? "
" Being close at hand, widow, it would seem he has,"
returned the blind man.
" I mean for good ? You know that."
" Yes, for good. The truth is, widow, that his making
a loDger stay there might have had disagreeable conse-
quences. He has come away for that reason."
"Listen," said the widow, telling some money out,
upon a bench beside them. " Count."
"Six," said the blind man, listening attentively. "Any
more ? "
" They are the savings," she answered " of five years.
Six guineas."
He put out his hand for one of the coins; felt it care-
fully, put it between his teeth, rung it on the bench ; and
nodded to her to proceed.
" These have been scraped together and laid by, lest
sickness or death should separate my son and me. They
have been purchased at the price of much hunger, hard
labor, and want of rest. If you can take them — do —
on condition that you leave this place upon the instant,
and enter no more into that room, where he sits now, ex-
pccting your return."
" Six guineas," said the blind man, shaking his head,
" though of the fullest weight that were ever coined, fall
very far short of twenty pounds, widow."
" For such a sum, as you know, I must write to a dis-
tant part of the country. To do that, and receive an
answer, I must have" time."
" Two days ? " said Stagg.
VOL. II. M
210
BAKNABY BUDGE.
" More."
" Four days ? "
" A week. Return on this day week, at the same
hour, but not to the house. Wait at the corner of the
lane."
" Of course," said the blind man, with a crafty look,
" I shall find you there ? "
" Where else can I take refuge ? Is it not enough
that you have made a beggar of me, and that I have
sacrificed my whole store, so hardly earned, to preserve
this home ? "
" Humph ! " said the blind man, after some considera-
tion. " Set me with my face towards the point you speak
of, and in the middle of the road. Is this the spot ? "
«Itis."
" On this day week at sunset. And think of him with-
in doors. — For the present, good-night."
She made him no answer, nor did he stop for any.
He went slowly away, turning his head from time to
time, and stopping to listen, as if he were curious to
know whether he was watched by any one. The shadows
of night were closing fast around, and he was soon lost
in the gloom. It was not, however, until she had trav-
ersed the lane from end to end, and made sure that he
was gone, that she reentered the cottage, and hurriedly
barred the door and window.
" Mother ! " said Barnaby. " What is the matter F
Where is the blind man ? "
" He is gone."
" Gone ! " he cried, starting up. " I must have more
talk with him. Which way did he take?"
" I don't know," she answered, folding her arms about
him. " You must not go out to-night. There are ghosts
and dreams abroad."
BARNABY RUDGE.
211
" Ay ? " said Barnaby, in a frightened whisper.
"It is not safe to stir. We must leave this place to-
morrow."
" This place ! This cottage — and the little garden,
mother!"
" Yes! To-morrow morning at sunrise. We must
travel to London ; lose ourselves in that wide place —
there would be some trace of us in any other town —-
then travel on again, and find some new abode."
Little persuasion was required to reconcile Barnaby to
anything that promised change. In another minute, he
was wild with delight; in another, full of grief at the
prospect of parting with his friends the dogs ; in an-
Other, wild again ; then he was fearful of what she had
said to prevent his wandering about that night, and full
of terrors and strange questions. His light-heartedness
in the end surmounted all his other feelings, and lying
down in his clothes to the end that he might be ready on
the morrow, he soon fell fast asleep before the poor turf-
fire. ' '
His mother did not close her eyes, but sat beside him,
watching. Every breath of wind sounded in her ears
like that dreaded footstep at the door, or like that hand
upon the latch, and made the calm summer night, a night
of horror. At length the welcome day appeared. When
she had made the little preparations which were needful
for their journey, and had prayed upon her knees with
many tears, she roused Barnaby, who jumped up gayly
at her summons.
His clothes were few enough, and to carry Grip was
a labor of love. As the sun shed his earliest beams
upon the earth, they closed the door of their deserted
home, and turned away. The sky was blue and bright.
212
BARNABY RUDGE.
The air was fresh and filled with a thousand perfumes
Barnaby looked upward, and laughed with all his heart.
But it was a day he usually devoted to a long ramble,
and one of the dogs — the ugliest of them all — came
bounding up, and jumping round him in the fulness of
his joy. He had to bid him go back in a surly tone,
and his heart smote him while he did so. The dog re-
treated; turned with a half-incredulous, half-imploring
look; came a little back; and stopped.
It was the last appeal of an old companion and a
faithful friend — cast off". Barnaby could bear no more,
and as he shook his head and waved his playmate home,
he burst into tears. „ t ,
" Oh mother, mother, how mournful he will be when
he scratches at the door, and finds it always shut!"
There was such a sense of home in the thought, that
though her own eyes overflowed she would not have
obliterated the recollection of it, either from her own
mind or from his, for the wealth cf the whole wide
world.
BARNABY RUDGE.
213
CHAPTER XLYII.
In the exhaustless catalogue of Heaven's mercies to
mankind, the power we have of finding some germs of
comfort in the hardest trials must ever occupy the fore-
most place ; not only because it supports and upholds us
when we most require to be sustained, but because in
this source of consolation there is something, we have
reason to believe, of the divine spirit; something of that
goodness which detects amidst our own evil doings, a
redeeming quality; something which, even in our fallen
nature, we possess in common with the angels ; which
had its being in the old time when they trod the earth,
and lingers on it yet, in pity.
How often, on their journey, did the widow remember
with a grateful heart, that out of his deprivation Barna-
by's cheerfulness and affection sprung 1 How often did
she call to mind that but for that, he might have been
sullen, morose, unkind, far removed from her — vicious,
perhaps, and cruel! How often had she cause for com-
fort, in his strength, and hope, and in his simple nature!
Those feeble powers of mind which rendered him so
soon forgetful of the past, save in brief gleams and
flashes, — even they were a comfort now. The world
to him was full of happiness ; in every tree, and plant,
and flower, in every bird, and beast, and tiny insect
whom a breath of summer wind laid low upon the
ground, he had delight. His delight was hers; and
214
BABNABY RUDGE.
where many a wise son would have made her sorrowful,
this poor light-hearted idiot filled her breast with thank-
fulness and love.
Their stock of money was low, but from the hoard she
had told into the blind man's hand, the widow had with-
held one guinea. This, with the few pence she possessed
besides, was to two persons of their frugal habits, a
goodly sum in bank. Moreover they had Grip in eom-
pany; and when they must otherwise have changed the
guinea, it was but to make him exhibit outside an ale-
house door, or in a village street, or in the grounds or
gardens of a mansion of the better sort, and scores, who
would have given nothing in charity, were ready to bar-
gain for more amusement from the talking bird.
One day — for they moved slowly, and, although they
had many rides in carts and wagons, were on the road
a week — Barnaby with Grip upon his shoulder and his
mother following, begged permission at a trim lodge to
go up to the great house, at the other end of the avenue,
and show his raven. Th.e man within was inclined to
give them admittance, and was indeed about to do so,
when a stout,gentleman with a long whip in his hand,
and a flushed face which seemed to indicate that he had
had his morning's draught, rode up to the gate, and
called in a loud voice and with more oaths than the oo-
casion seemed to warrant to have it opened directly.
" Who hast thou got here ?" said the gentleman
angrily, as the man threw the gate wide open, and
pulled off his hat, " who are these ? Eh ? ar*t a beg-
gar woman ? " ,
The widow answered with a courtesy, that they were
poor travellers.
" Vagrants," said the gentleman, " vagrants and vag-
BARNABY BUDGE.
215
abonds. Thee wish to be made acquainted with the
cage, dost thee — the cage, the stocks, and the whipping
post ? Where dost come from ? "
She told him in a timid manner, — for he was very
loud, hoarse, and red-faced, — and besought him not to
be angry, for they meant no harm and would go upon
their way that moment.
"Don't be too sure of that," replied the gentleman,
" we don't allow vagrants to roam about this place. I
know what thou want'st — stray linen drying on hedges,
and stray poultry, eh ? What hast got in that basket,
lazy hound ? *
" Grip, Grip, Grip — Grip the clever, Grip the wicked,
Grip the knowing — Grip, Grip, Grip," cried the raven,
whom Barnaby had shut up on the approach of this stern
personage. " I'm a devil I'm a devil I'm a devil, Never
say die Hurrah Bow wow wow, Polly put the kettle on
we'll all have tea."
"Take the virmin out, scoundrel," said the gentleman,
" and let me see him."
Barnaby, thus condescendingly addressed, produced
his bird, but not without much fear and trembling, and
set him down upon the ground ; which he had no sooner
done than Grip drew fifty corks at least, and then began
to dance; at the same time eying the gentleman with
surprising insolence of manner, and screwing his head
so much cm one side that he appeared desirous of screw-
ing it off upon the spot.
The cork-drawing seemed to make a greater impres-
sion on the gentleman's mind, than the raven's power
of speech, and was indeed particularly adapted to his
habits and capacity. He desired to have that done
again, but despite his being very peremptory, and not-
216
BARNABY RUDGE.
withstanding that Barnaby coaxed to the utmost, Grip
turned a deaf ear to the request, and preserved a dead
silence.
" Bring him along," said the gentleman, pointing to
the house. But Grip, who had watched the action
anticipated his master, by hopping on before them;—i
constantly flapping his wings, and screaming " cook! I
meanwhile, as a hint perhaps that there was company
coming, and a small collation would be acceptable.
Barnaby and his mother walked on, on either side
of the gentleman on horseback, who surveyed each of
them from time to time in a proud and coarse man-
ner, and occasionally thundered out some question, the
tone of which alarmed Barnaby so much that he could
find no answer, and, as a matter of course, could make
him no reply. On one of these occasions, when the
gentleman appeared disposed to exercise his horsewhip,
the widow ventured to inform him in a low voice and
with tears in her eyes, that her son was of weak
mind.
" An idiot, eh ?" said the gentleman, looking at
Barnaby as he spoke. "And how long hast been an
idiot ? "
" She knows," was Barnaby's timid answer, pointing
to his mother — "I — always, I believe."
" From his birth," said the widow.
" I don't believe it," cried the gentleman, " not a
bi£ of it. It's an excuse not to work. There's noth-
ing like flogging to cure that disorder. I'd make a
difference in him in ten minutes, I'll be bound."
" Heaven has made none in more than twice ten
years, sir," said the widow mildly. )
" Then why don't you shut him up ? we pay enough
BARNABY BUDGE.
217
for county institutions, damn 'em. But thou'd rather
drag him about to excite charity of course. Ay, I
know thee."
Now this gentleman had various endearing appella-
tions among his intimate friends. By some he was
called " a country gentleman of the true school," by
some u a fine old country gentleman," by some " a sport-
ing gentleman," by some " a thorough-bred Englishman,"
by some " a genuine John Bull; " but they all agreed in
one respect, and that was, that it was a pity there were
not more like him, and that because there were not, the
country was going to rack and ruin every day. He was
in the commission of the peace, and could write his name
almost legibly; but his greatest qualifications were, that
he was more severe with poachers, was a better shot, a
harder rider, had better horses, kept better dogs, could
eat more solid food, drink more strong wine, go to bed
every night more drunk and get up every morning more
sober than any man in the county. In knowledge of
horse-flesh he was almost equal to a farrier, in stable-
learning he surpassed his own head groom, and in glut-
tony not a pig on his estate was a match for him. He
had no seat in Parliament himself, but he was extremely
patriotic, and usually drove his voters up to the poll with
his own hands. He was warmly attached to church and
state, and never appointed to the living in his gift any
but a three-bottle man and a first-rate fox-hunter. He
mistrusted the honesty of all poor people who could read
and write, and had a secret jealousy or his own wife (a
young lady whom he had married for what his friends
Milled " the good old English reason," that her father's
property adjoined his own) for possessing those accom-
plishments in a greater degree than himself. In short,
218
' BARNABY KUDGE.
Barnaby being an idiot, and Grip a creature of mere
brute instinct, it would be very hard to say what this
gentleman was.
He rode up to the door of a handsome house ap-
preached by a great flight of steps, where a man was
waiting to take his horse, and led the way into a large
hall, which, spacious as it was, was' tainted with the
fumes of last night's stale debauch. Great-coats, riding-
whips, bridles, top-boots, spurs, and such gear, were
strewn about on all sides, and formed, with some huge
stags' antlers, and a few portraits of dogs and horses, its
principal embellishments.
Throwing himself into a great chair (in which by the
by, he often snored away the night, when he had been,
according to his admirers, a finer country gentleman
than usual) he bade the man tell his mistress to come
down : and presently there appeared, a little flurried,
as it seemed, by the unwonted summons, a lady much
younger than himself, who had the appearance of being
in delicate health, and not too happy.
" Here! Thou'st no delight in following the hounds
as an Englishwoman should have," said the gentleman.
" See to this here. That'll please thee perhaps."
The lady smiled, sat down at a little distance from
him, and glanced at Barnaby with a look of pity.
" He's an idiot, the woman says," observed the gentle-
man, shaking his head ; " I don't believe it."
"Are you his mother?" asked the lady. >
She answered yes.
"What's the use of asking her?" said the gentleman,
thrusting his hands into his breeches pockets. " She'll
tell thee so, of course. Most likely he's hired, at so much
a day. There. Get on. Make him do something."
BARNABT RDDGE.
221
Grip having by this time recovered lis urbanity, con-
descended, at Barnaby's solicitation, to repeat his various
phrases of speech, and to go through the whole of his
performances with the utmost success. The corks, and
the never say die, afforded the gentleman so much de-
light that he demanded the repetition of this part of the
entertainment, until Grip got into his basket, and posi-
lively refused to say another word, good or bad. The
lady too, was much amused with him ; and the closing
point of his obstinacy so delighted her husband' that
he burst into a roar of laughter, and demanded his
price. 1 "
Barnaby looked as though he didn't understand his
meaning. Probably he did not. 1
- " His price,said the gentleman, rattling the money
in his pockets, " what dost want for him ? How
much?" * ■ • M ■'
" He's not to be sold," replied Barnaby, shutting up
the basket in a great hurry, and throwing the strap over
his shoulder. " Mother, come away."
"Thou seest how much of an idiot he is, book-learner,"
said the gentleman, looking scornfully at his wife. " He
can make a bargain. What dost want for him, old
woman ?" ' '
" He is my son's constant companion," said the widow.
" He is not to be sold, sir, indeed."
" Not to be sold! " cried the gentleman, growing ten
times redder, hoarser, and louder than before. " Not to
t>e sold!"
"Indeed no," she answered. "We have never thought
af parting with him, sir, I do assure you."
He was evidently about to make a very passionate
retort, when a few murmured words from his wife hap-
218 BARNABY RUDGE.
pening to catch his ear, he turned sharply round, and
said," Eh ? What ? " . -
"We can hardly expect them to sell the bird, against
their own desire," she faltered. " If they prefer to keep
him "
"Prefer to keep him J" he echoed. "These people,
who go tramping about the country, a-pilfering and vaga-
bondizing on all hands, prefer to keep a bird, when a
landed proprietor and a justice asks his price! That old
woman's been to school. I know she has. Don't tell
me no," he roared to the. widow, "I say, yes."
Barnaby's mother pleaded guilty to the accusation,
and hoped there was no harm in it. „ „
" No harm !" said the gentleman. " No. No harm.
No harm, ye old rebel, not a bit of harm. If my clerk
was here, I'd set ye ,jn the stocks, I would, or lay ye in
jail for prowling up and down, on the look-out for petty
larcenies, ye limb of a, gypsy. Here, Simon, put these
pilferers out, shove 'em into the road, out with 'em 1 Ye
don't want to sell the bird, ye that come here to beg,
don't ye ? If they a'n't out in double-quick, set the-dogs
upon 'em j "
They waited for no further dismissal, but fled precip-
itately, leaving the gentleman to storm away by him-
self (for the poor lady had already retreated), and mak-
ing a great many vain attempts to silence Grip, who,
excited by the noise drew corks enough for a city feast
as they hurried down the avenue, and appeared to con-
gratulate himself beyond measure on having been the
cause of the disturbance. When they had nearly reached
the lodge, another servant, emerging from the shrubbery,
feigned to be very active in ordering them off, but this
man put a crown into the widow's hand, and whisper-
BARNABY RUDGE.
221
ing that his lady sent it, thrust them gently from the
gate.
This incident only suggested to the widow's mind,
when they halted at an ale-house some miles farther on,
and heard the justice's character as given by his friends,
that perhaps something more than capacity of stomach
and tastes for the kennel and the stable, were required
to form either a perfect country gentleman, a thorough-
bred Englishman, or a genuine John Bull; and that
possibly the terms were sometimes misappropriated, not
to say disgraced. She little thought then, that a circum-
stance so slight would ever influence their future for-
tunes; but time and experience enlightened her in this
respect.
" Mother," said Barnaby, as they were sitting next
day in a wagon which was to take them to within ten
miles of the capital, " we're going to London first, you
said. Shall we see that blind man there?"
She was about to answer " Heaven forbid!" but
checked herself, and told him No, she thought not; why
did he ask ?
" He's a wise man," said Barnaby, with a thoughtful
countenance. " I wish that we may meet with him again.
What was it that he said of crowds ? That gold was to
be found where people crowded, and not among the
trees and in such quiet places ? He spoke as if he loved
it; London is a crowded place; I think we shall meet
him there."
"But why do you desire to see him, love?" she
asked.
" Because," said Barnaby, looking wistfully at her,
" he talked to me about gold, which is a rare thing, and
say what you will, a thing you would like to have, I
222
BARNABY RUDGE.
know. And because he came and went away so
strangely — just as white-heaaed old men come some-
times to my bed's foot in the night, and say what I
can't remember when the bright day returns. He told
me he'd come back. I wonder why he broke his
word !"
" But you never thought of being rich or gay, before,
dear Barnaby. You have always been contented."
He laughed and bade her say that again, then cried,
M Ay, ay — oh yes," and lauglied once more. Then
something passed that caught his fancy, and the topic
wandered from his mind, and was succeeded by another
just as fleeting. 1
But it was plain from what he had said, and from his
returning to the point more than once that day, ahd on
the next, that the blind man's visit, and indeed his words,
had taken strong possession of his mind. Whether the
idea of wealth had occurred to him for the first time on
looking at the golden clouds that evening — and images
were often presented to bis thoughts by outward objects
quite as remote and distant; or whether their poor and
humble way of life had suggested it, by contrast, long
ago ; or whether the accident (as he would deem it) of
the blind man's pursuing the current of his own remarks,
had done so at the moment; or he had been impressed
by the mere circumstance of the man being blind, and,
therefore, unlike any one with whom he had talked be-
fore ; it was impossible to tell. She tried every means
to discover, but in vain ; and the probability is that Bar-
naby himself was equally in the dark.
It filled her with uneasiness to find him harping on
'his string, but all that she could do, was to lead him
quickly to some other subject, and to dismiss it from his
BARNABY BUDGE.
223
brain. To caution him against their visitor, to show any
fear or suspicion in reference to him, would only be, she
feared, to increase that interest with which Barnaby re-
garded him, and to strengthen his desire to meet him
once again. She hoped, by plunging into the crowd, to
rid herself of her terrible pursuer, and then, by journey-
ing to a distance and observing increased caution, if that
were possible, to live again unknown, in seerecy and
peace. „■ ' , "
They reached, in course of time, their halting-place
within ten miles of London, and lay there for the night,
after bargaining to be carried on for a trifle next day, in
a light van which was returning empty, and was to start
at five o'clock in the morning. The driver was punctual,
the road good — save for the dust, the weather being
very hot and dry —- and at seven in the forenoon of
Friday the second of June, one thousand seven hun-
dred and eighty, they alighted at the foot of Westmin-
ster Bridge, bade their conductor farewell, and stood
alone, together, on the scorching pavement. For the
freshness which night sheds upon such busy thorough-
fares had already departed, and the sun was shir.ing with
uncommon lustre.
224
barnaby rudge.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
Uncertain where to go next, and bewildered by tho
crowd of people who were already astir, they sat down
in one of the recesses on the bridge, to rest. They soon
became aware that the stream of life was all pouring
one way, and that a vast throng of persons were crossing
the river from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore, in un-
usual haste and evident excitement. They were for the
most part, in knots of two or three, or sometimes half a
dozen ; they spoke little together — many of them were
quite silent; and hurried on as if they had one ab-
sorbing object in view, which was common to them
all.
They were surprised to see that nearly every man in
this great concourse, which still came pouring past, with-
out slackening in the least, wore in his hat a blue cock-
ade ; and that the chance passengers who were not so
decorated, appeared timidly anxious to escape observa-
tion or attack, and gave them the wall as if they would
conciliate them. This, however, was natural enough,
considering their inferiority in point of numbers; for
the proportion of those who wore blue cockades, to
those who were dressed as usual, was at least forty or
fifty to one. There was no quarrelling, however: the
blue cockades went swarming on, passing each other
when they could, and making all the speed that was
possible in such a multitude; and exchanged nothing
BARNABY BUDGE.
22 b
more than looks, and very often not even those, witl
such of the passers-by as were not of their num«
ber.
At first, the current of people had been confined to
the two pathways, and but a few more eager stragglers
kept the road. But after half an hour or so, the passage
was completely blocked up by the great press, which, be-
ing now closely wedged together, and impeded by the
carts and coaches it encountered, moved but slowly,
and was sometimes at a stand for five or ten minutes
together.
After the lapse of nearly two hours, the numbers be-
gau to diminish visibly, and gradually dwindling away,
by little and little, left the bridge quite clear, save that,
now and then, some hot and dusty man with the cockade
in his hat, and his coat thrown over his shoulder, went
panting by, fearful of being too late, or stopped to ask
which way his friends had taken,, and being directed,
hastened on again like one refreshed. In this eompara-
live solitude, which seemed quite strange and novel after
tlte late crowd, the widow had for the first time an op-
portunity of inquiring of an old man who came and sat
beside them, what was the meaning of that great as-
semblage.
"Why, where have you come from," he returned,
" that you haven't heard of Lord George Gordon's
great association ? This is the day that he presents
(lie petition against the Catholics, God bless him!"
•' What have all these men to do with that ?" she
asked.
" What have they to do with it!" the old man replied.
" Why, how you talk! Don't you know his lordship has
declared he won't present it to the house at all, unless it
vol. n. 15
226
BAKNABY BUDGE.
is attended to the door by forty thousand good and true
men at least ? There's a crowd for you !"
" A crowd indeed !" said Barnaby. " Do you hear
that, mother!"
"And they're mustering yonder, as I am told," re-
sumed the old man, "nigh upon a hundred thousand
strong. Ah! Let Lord George alone. He knows his
power. There'll be a good many faces inside them three
windows over there," and he pointed to where the House
of Commons overlooked the river, " that'll torn pale
when good Lord George gets up this afternoon, and
with reason too ! Ay, ay. Let his lordship alone. Let
him alone. He knows!" And so, with much mum-
bling and chuckling and shaking of his forefinger, he
rose, with the assistance of bis stick, and tottered off.
" Mother!" said Barnaby, " that's a brave crowd he
talks of. Come !" »
" Not to join it!" cried his mother.
"Yes, yes," he answered, plucking at her sleeve.
" Why not ? Come !"
"You don't know," she urged, "what mischief they
may do, where they may lead you, what their meaning
is. Dear Barnaby, for my sake " —
" For your sake!" he cried, patting her hand. "Well!
It is for your sake, mother. You remember what the
blind man said, about the gold. Here's a brave crowd
Come! Or wait till I come back — yes, yes, wait
here." • f
She tried with all the earnestness her fears engen-
dered, to turn him from his purpose, but in vain. He
was stooping down to buckle on his shoe, when a hack-
ney-coach passed them rather quickly, and a voice inside
called to the driver to stop.
BARNABY RUDGE.
227
" Young man," said a voice within.
" Who's that ? " cried Barnaby, looking up.
" Do you wear this ofnament ? " returned the stranger,
holding out a blue coekade. ' ■
"In Heaven's name, no. Pray do not give it him!"
exclaimed the widow. J ' , • . -
" Speak for yourself, woman," said the man within the
coach, coldly. " Leave the young man to his choice 5
he's old enough to make it, and to snap your apron*
strings. He knows, Without your telling, whether he
wears the sign of a loyal Englishman or not."
Barnaby, trembling with impatience, cried " Yes 1 yes,
yes, I do," as he had cried a dozen times already. The
man threw him a cockade, and crying " Make haste to
Saiht George's Fields,"- ordered the coachman to drive
on fast} and left them. *1*
With hands that trembled with his eagerness to fix the
bauble in his hat, Barnaby was adjusting it as he best
could, and hurriedly replying to the tears and entreaties
of his mother, when two gentlemen passed on the oppo-
site side of the way. Observing them, and seeing how
Barnaby was occupied, they stopped, whispered to-
gether for an instant, turned back, and came over to
them.
" Why are you sitting here ? " said one of them, who
was dressed in a plain suit of black, wore long lank hair
and carried a great cane. " Why have you not gone with
the rest ? "
" I am going sir," replied Barnaby, finishing his task,
and putting his hat on with an air of pride. "I shall be
there directly."
"Say 'my lord,' young man, when his lordship does
you the honor of speaking to you," said the second gen-
22a
BARNABY BUDGE.
tleman mildly. "If you don't know Lord George Gor
don when you see him, it's high time you should."' f
" Nay, Gashford," said Lord George, as Barrtnby
pulled off his hat again and made him a low bow, *' it's
no great matter on a day like this, which every English-
man will remember with delight and pride. Put on
your hat, friend, and follow us, for you lag behind and
are late. It's past ten now. Didn't you know that the
hour of assembling was ten o'clock ? "
Barnaby shook his head and looked vacantly from one
to the other. * < til* "
" You might have known it, friend," said Gashford,
" it was perfectly understood. How came you to be so
ill-informed ? "
" He cannot tell you, sir," the widow interposed. " It's
of no use to ask him. We are but this morning come
from a long distance in the country, and know nothing
of these matters."
" The cause has taken a deep root, and has spread its
branches far and wide," said Lord George to his secre-
tary. "This is a pleasant hearing. I thank Heaven
for it."
" Amen !" cried Gashford with a solemn face.
" You do not understand me, my lord," said the widow.
" Pardon me, but you cruelly mistake my meaning.
We know nothing of these matters. We have no desire
or right to join in what you are about to do. This is
my son, my poor afflicted son, dearer to me than my
own life. In mercy's name, my lord, go your way alone,
and do not tempt him into danger! "
" My good woman," said Gashford, " how can you ! —
Dear me. —What do you mean by tempting, and by
danger? Do you think his lordship is a roaring lion,
BARNABY RUDGE.
229
going about and seeking whom he may devour? God
bless me!"
" No, no, my lord, forgive me," implored the widow,
laying both her hands upon his breast, and scarcely
knowing what she did, or said, in the earnestness of her
supplication, " but there are reasons why you should
hear my earnest mother's prayer, and leave my son with
me. Oh do. He is not in his right senses, he is not,
indeed!"
"It is a bad sign of the wickedness of these times,"
said Lord George, evading her touch, and coloring deep-
ly, " that those who cling to the truth and support the
right cause, are set down as mad. Have you the heart
to say this of your own son, unnatural mother ! "
" I am astonished at you!" said Gashford, with a
kind of meek severity. " This is a very sad picture of
female depravity."
" He has surely no appearance," said Lord George,
glancing at Barnaby, and whispering in his secretary's
ear, " of being deranged ? And even if he had, we
must not construe any trifling peculiarity into madness.
Which of us" — and here he turned red again —
" would be safe, if that were made the law!"
" Not one," replied the secretary; " in that case, the
greater the zeal, the truth, and talent; the more direct
the call from above ; the clearer would be the madness.
With regard to this young man, my lord," he added, with
a lip that slightly curled as he looked at Barnaby, who
stood twirling his hat, and stealthily beckoning them to
come away, " he is as sensible and self-possessed as any
one I ever saw."
" And you desire to make one of this great body ? "
said Lord George, addressing him ; " and intended to
make one did you ? "
230 /' BARNABY RUDGE.
/'
"Yes^--yes," said Barnaby, with sparkling eyes.
"ToXe sure I did ! I told her so myself."
* I see," replied Lord George, with a reproachful
glance at the unhappy mother. " I thought so Follow
me and this gentleman, and you shall have your wish."
Barnaby kissed his mother tenderly on the cheek, and
bidding her be of good cheer, for their fortunes were
both made now, did as he was desired. She, poor
woman, followed too — with how much fear and grief
it would be hard to tell.
They passed quickly through the Bridge-road, where
the shops were all shut up (for the passage of the great
crowd and the expectation of their return had alarmed
the tradesmen for their goods and windows), and where,
in the upper stories, all the inhabitants were congre
gated, looking down into the street below, with faces
variously expressive of alarm, of interest, expectancy,
and indignation. Some of these applauded, and some
hissed ; but regardless of these interruptions — for the
noise of a vast congregation of people at a little distance,
sounded in his ears like the roaring of a sea — Lord
George Gordon quickened his pace, and presently ar-
rived before Saint George's Fields.
They were really fields at that time, and of consider-
able extent. Here an immense multitude was collected,
bearing flags of various kinds and sizes, but all of the
same color — blue, like the cockades — some sections
marching to and fro in military array, and others drawn
up in circles, squares, and lines. A large portion, both
of the bodies which paraded the ground, and of those
which remained stationary, were occupied in singing
hymns or psalms. With whomsoever this originated, it
was well done: for the sound of so many thousand
BARNABY RUDGE.
231
voices in the air must have stirred the heart of any man
within him, and could not fail to have a wonderful effect
upon enthusiasts, however mistaken.
Scouts had been posted in advance of the great body,
to give notice of their leader's coming. These falling
back, the word was quickly passed through the whole
host, and for a short interval there ensued a profound
and death-like silence, during which the mass was so still
and quiet, that the fluttering of a banner caught the eye,
and became a circumstance of note. Then they burst
into a tremendous shout, into another, and another; and
the air seemed rent and shaken, as if by the discharge
of cannon.
" Gashford!" cried Lord George, pressing his secre-
tary's arm tight within his own, and speaking with as
much emotion in his voice, as in his altered face, "I am
called indeed, now. I feel and know it. I am the
leader of a host. If they summoned me at this moment
with one voice to lead them on to death, I'd do it — Yes,
and fall first myself! "
" It is a proud sight," said the secretary. " It is a
noble day for England, and for the great cause through-
out the world. Such homage, my lord, as I, an humble
but devoted man, can render " —
" What are you doing!" cried his master, catching
him by both hands; for he had made a show of kneel-
ing at his feet. " Do not unfit me, dear Gashford, for the
solemn duty of this glorious day " — the tears stood in
the eyes of the poor gentleman as he said the words. —
" Let us go among them ; we have to find a place in
some division for this new recruit — give me your
hand."
Gashford slid his cold insidious palm into his master's
232 , BARNABY RUDGE.
grasp, and so, hand in hand, and followed still by Bar*
naby and his mother too, they mingled with the con*
course.
They had by this time taken to their singing again,
and as their leader passed between their ranks, they
raised their voices to their utmost. Many of those who
were banded together to support the religion of their
country, even unto death, had never heard a hymn or
psalm in all their lives. But these fellows having for
the most part strong lungs, and being naturally fond of
singing, chanted any ribaldry or nonsense that occurred
to them, feeling pretty certain that it would not be de-
tected in the general chorus, and not caring very much
if it were. Many of these voluntaries were sung under
the very nose of Lord George Gordon, who, quite un-
conscious of their burden, passed on with his usual stiff
and solemn deportment, very much edified and delighted
by the pious conduct of his followers.
So they went on and on, up this line, down that, round
the exterior of this circle, and on every side of that hoi-
low square; and still there were lines, and squares, and
circles out of number to review. The day being now
intensely hot, and the sun striking down his fiercest rays
upon the field, those who carried heavy banners began
to grow faint and weary ; most of the number assembled
were fain to pull off their neckcloths, and throw their
coats and waistcoats open ; and some, towards the een-
tre, quite overpowered by the excessive heat, which was
of course rendered more unendurable by the multitude
around them, lay down upon the grass, and offered all
they had about them for a drink of water. Still, no
man left the ground, not even of those who were so dis-
tressed; still, Lord George, streaming from every pore,
BARNABY RUDGE.
233
went on with Gashford; and still Barnaby and his
mother followed close behind them.
They had arrived at the top of a long line of some
eight hundred men in single file, and Lord George had
turned his head to look back, when a loud cry of recog-
nition — in that peculiar and half-stifled tone which a
voice has, when it is raised in the open air and in the
midst of a great concourse of persons — was heard, and
a man stepped with a shout of laughter from the rank,
and smote Barnaby on the shoulders with his heavy
hand.
" How now !" he cried. " Barnaby Rudge ! Why,
where have you been hiding for these hundred years ! "
Barnaby had been thinking within himself that the
smell of the trodden grass brought back his old days at
cricket, when he was a young boy and played on Chig-
well Green. Confused by this sudden and boisterous
address, he stared in a bewildered manner at the man,
and could scarcely say " What! Hugh ! "
" Hugh ! " echoed the other ; " ay, Hugh — Maypole
Hugh ! You remember my dog ? He's alive now, and
will know you, I warrant. What, you wear the color, do
you ? Well done ! Ha, ha, ha !"
"You know this young man, I see," said Lord George.
" Know him, my lord ! as well as I know my own
right hand. My captain knows him. We all know
him."
" Will you take him into your division ?"
" It hasn't in it a better, nor a nimbler, nor a more
active man, than Barnaby Rudge," said Hugh. " Show
me the man who says it has! Fall in, Barnaby. He
shall march, my lord, between me and Dennis; and he
shall carry," he added, taking a flag from the hand of a
234 BARNABY RUDGE.
tired man who tendered it, '■ the gayest silken streamer
in this valiant army."
" In the name of God, no! " shrieked the widow, dart-
ing forward. " Barnaby — my lord — see — he'll come
back — Barnaby — Barnaby ! "
" Women in the field!" cried Hugh, stepping be-
tween them, and holding her off. " Holloa! My cap-
tain there!"
" What's the matter here ? " cried Simon Tappertit,
bustling up in a great heat. " Do you call this or-
der ? "
" Nothing like it, captain," answered Hugh, still hold-
ing her back with his outstretched hand. " It's against
all orders. Ladies are carrying off our gallant soldiers
from their duty. The word of command, captain! They're
filing off the ground. Quick ! "
4> Close ! " cried Simon, with the whole power of his
lungs. " Form ! March ! "
She was thrown to the ground; the whole field was
in motion; Barnaby was whirled away into the heart
of a dense mass of men, and she saw him no more.
BARNABY RUDGE. 235
CHAPTER XLIX.
The mob had been divided from its first assemblage
into four divisions: the London, the Westminster, the
Southwark, and the Scotch. Each of these divisions
being subdivided into various bodies, and these bodies
being drawn up in various forms and figures, the gen-
eral arrangement was, except to the few chiefs and
leaders, as unintelligible as the plan of a great battle
to the meanest soldier in the field. It was not without
its method, however ; for, in a very short space of time
after being put in motion, the crowd had resolved itself
into three great parties, and were prepared, as had been
arranged to cross the river by different bridges, and
make for the House of Commons in separate detach-
meats.
At the head of that division which had Westminster
Bridge for its approach to the scene of action, Lord
George Gordon took his post; with Gashford at his
right hand, and sundry ruffians of most unpromising ap-
pearance, forming a kind of staff about him. The con-
luct of a second party whose route lay by Blackfriars,
was intrusted to a committee of management, including
perhaps a dozen men : while the third, which was to go
by London Bridge, and through the main streets, in
order that their numbers and their serious intentions
might be the better known and appreciated by the cit-
izens, was led by Simon Tappertit (assisted by a few
236 BARNABY RUDGE.
subalterns, selected from the Brotherhood of United
Bull-dogs), Dennis the hangman, Hugh, and some oth-
ers.
The word of command being given, each of these
great bodies took the road assigned to it, and departed
on its way, in perfect order and profound silence. That
which went through the City greatly exceeded the oth-
ers in number, and was of such prodigious extent that
when the rear began to move, the front was nearly four
miles in advance, notwithstanding that the men marched
three abreast and followed very close upon each other.
At the head of this party, in the place where Hugh,
in the madness of his humor, had stationed him, and
walking between that dangerous companion and the
hangman, went Barnaby; as many a man among the
thousands who looked on that day afterwards remem-
bered well. Forgetful of all other things in the ecstasy
of the moment, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling
with delight, heedless of the weight of the great banner
he carried, and mindful only of its flashing in the sun
and rustling in the summer breeze, on he went, proud,
happy, elated past all telling : — the only light-hearted,
undesigning creature, in the whole assembly.
" What do you think of this ? " asked Hugh, as they
passed through the crowded streets, and looked up at the
windows which were thronged with spectators. " They
have all turned out to see our flags and streamers. Eh,
Barnaby ? Why, Barnaby's the greatest man of all the
pack! His flag's the largest of the lot, the brightest too.
There's nothing in the show, like Barnaby. All eyes
are turned on him. Ha, ha, ha!"
" Don't make that din, brother," growled the hang-
man. glancing with no very approving eyes at Barnaby
BARNABY RUDGE.
237
as he spoke: " I hope he don't think there's nothing to
be done, but carrying that there piece of blue rag, like
a boy at a breaking-up. You're ready for action I hope,
eh ? You, I mean," he added, nudging Barnaby roughly
with his elbow. " What are you staring at ? Why don't
you speak ? "
Barnaby had been gazing at his flag, and looked va-
cantly from his questioner to Hugh.
" He don't understand your way," said the latter.
" Here, I'll explain it to him. Barnaby old boy, attend
to me."
" I'll attend," said Barnaby, looking anxiously round;
" but I wish I could see her somewhere."
" See who ?" demanded Dennis in a gruff tone.
"You a'n't in love I hope, brother? That a'n't the
sort of thing for us, you know. We mustn't have no
love here."
" She would be proud indeed to see me now, eh,
Hugh ? " said Barnaby. " Wouldn't it make her glad to
see me at the head of this large show ? Shfe'd cry with
joy, I know she would. Where can she be. She never
sees me at my best, and what do I care to be gay and fine
if she's not by ? "
" Why, what palaver's this ? " asked Mr. Dennis with
supreme disdain. "We a'n't got no sentimental members
among us, I hope."
" Don't be uneasy, brother," cried Hugh, " he's only
talking of his mother."
" Of his what ?" said Mr. Dennis with a strong
oath.
" His mother."
" And have I combined myself with this here section,
and turned out on this here memorable day, to hear men
238
BARNABY RUDGE.
talk about their mothers ! " growled Mr. Dennis with ex-
treme disgust. " The notion of a man's sweetheart's
bad enough, but a man's mother ! " — and here his dis-
gust was so extreme that he spat upon the ground, and
could say no more.
" Barnaby's right," cried Hugh with a grin, " and I
say it. Lookee, bold lad. If she's not here to see, it's
because I've provided for her, and sent half a dozen
gentlemen, every one of 'em with a blue flag (but not
half as fine as yours), to take her, in state, to a grand
house all hung round with gold and silver banners, and
everything else you please, where she'll wait till you
come, and want for nothing."
" Ay ! " said Barnaby, his face beaming with delight:
" have you indeed ? That's a good hearing. That's
fine! Kind Hugh!"
" But nothing to what will come, bless you," retorted
Hugh, with a wink at Dennis, who regarded his new
companion in arms with great astonishment.
" No, indeed ? " cried Barnaby.
" Nothing at all," said Hugh. " Money, cocked-hats
and feathers, red-coats and gold lace ; all the fine things
there are, ever were, or will be ; will belong to us if we
are true to that noble gentleman — the best man in the
world — carry our flags for a few days, and keep 'em safe.
That's all we've got to do."
" Is that all ? " cried Barnaby with glistening eyes, as
he clutched his pole the tighter; " I warrant you I
keep this one safe, then. You have put it in good
hands. You know me, Hugh. Nobody shall wrest this
flag away."
"Well said!" cried Hugh. "Ha, ha! Nobly said!
That's the old stout Barnaby, that I have climbed and
BARNABY RUDGE.
239
leaped with, many and many a day — I knew I was not
mistaken in Barnaby. — Don't you see man," he added
in a whisper, as he slipped to the other side of Dennis,
" that the lad's a natural, and can be got to do anything,
if you take him the right way. Letting alone the fun
he is, he's worth a dozen men, in earnest, as you'd find
if you tried a fall with him. Leave him to me. You
hall soon see whether he's of use or not."
Mr. Dennis received these explanatory remarks with
many nods and winks, and softened his behavior towards
Barnaby from that moment. Hugh, laying his finger
on his nose, stepped back into his former place, and they
proceeded in silence.
It was between two and three o'clock in the afternoon
when the three great parties met at Westminster, and,
uniting into one huge mass, raised a tremendous shout.
This was not only done in token of their presence, but
as a signal to those on whom the task devolved, that it
was time to take possession of the lobbies of both Houses,
and of the various avenues of approach, and of the gal-
lery stairs. To the last-named place, Hugh and Dennis,
still with their pupil between them, rushed straightway ;
Barnaby having given his flag into the hands of one of
their own party, who kept them at the outer door. Their
followers pressing on behind, they were borne as on a
great wave to the very doors of the gallery, whence it
was impossible to retreat, even if they had been so in-
clined, by reason of the throng which choked up the
passages. It is a familiar expression in describing a
great crowd, that a person might have walked upon the
people's heads. In this case it was actually done ; for
a boy who had by some means got among the concourse,
and was in imminant danger of suffocation, climbed to
240
BARNABY RUDGE.
the shoulders of a man beside him and walked upon
the people's hats and heads into the open street; trav-
ersing in his passage the whole length of two staircases
and a long gallery. Nor was the swarm without less
dense; for a basket which had been tossed into the
crowd, was jerked from head to head, and shoulder to
shoulder, and went spinning and whirling on above them,
until it was lost to view, without ever once falling in
among them or coming near the ground.
Through this vast throng, sprinkled doubtless here
and there with honest zealots, but composed for the most
part of the very scum and refuse of London, whose
growth was fostered by bad criminal laws, bad prison
regulations, and the worst conceivable police, such of the
members of both Houses of Parliament as had not taken
the precaution to be already at their posts, were com-
pelled to fight and force their way. Their carriages
were stopped and broken ; the wheels wrenched off; the
glasses shivered to atoms; the panels beaten in ; driv-
ers, footmen, and masters, pulled from their seats and
rolled in the mud. Lords, commoners, and reverend
bishops, with little distinction of person or party, were
kicked and pinched and hustled ; passed from hand to
hand through various stages of ill-usage; and sent to
their fellow-senators at last with their clothes hanging in
ribbons about them, their bagwigs torn off, themselves
speechless and breathless, and their persons covered with
the powder which had been cuffed and beaten out of
their hair. One lord was so long in the hands of the
populace, that the Peers as a body resolved to sally
forth and rescue him, and were in the act of doing so,
when he happily appeared among them covered with
dirt and bruises, and hardly to be recognized by those
BARNART RUDGF..
241
who knew him best. The noise and uproar were on the
increase every moment. The air was filled with execra-
tions, hoots, and howlings. The mob raged and roared
like a mad monster as it was, unceasingly, and each new
outrage served to swell its fury.
Within doors, matters were even yet more threaten-
ing. Lord George — preceded by a man who carried
the immense petition on a porter's knot through the
lobby to the door of the House of Commons, where it
was received by two officers of the house who rolled it up
to the table ready for presentation — had taken his seat
at an early hour, before the Speaker went to prayers.
His followers pouring in at the same time, the lobby
and all the avenues were immediately filled, as we have
seen. Thus the " members were not only attacked in
their passage through the streets, but were set upon
within the very walls of Parliament; while the tumult,
both within and without, was so great, that those who
attempted to speak could scarcely hear their own voices:
far less consult upon the course it would be wise to
take in such extremity, or animate each other to dig-
nified and firm resistance. So sure as any member, just
arrived, with dress disordered and dishevelled hair, came
struggling through the crowd in the lobby, it yelled and
screamed in triumph ; and when the door of the House
partially and cautiously opened by those within for his
admission, gave them a momentary glimpse of the in-
terior, they grew more wild and savage, like beasts at
the sight of prey, and made a rush against the portal,
which strained its locks and bolts in their staples, and
shook the very beams.
The strangers' gallery, which was immediately above
the door of the House, had been ordered to be closed
voi.. n. 16
242
BARNABY BUDGE.
on the first rumor of disturbance, and was empty; save
that now and then Lord George took his seat there, for
the convenience of coming to the head of the stairs
which led to it, and repeating to the people what had
passed within. It was on these stairs that Barnaby,
Hugh, and Dennis were posted. There were two flights,
short, steep, and narrow, running parallel to each other,
and leading to two little doors communicating with a low
passage which opened on the gallery. Between them
was a kind of well, or unglazed skylight, for the admis-
sion of light and air into the lobby, which might be
some eighteen or twenty feet below.
Upon one of these little staircases — not that at the
head of which Lord George appeared from time to time,
but the other—Gashford stood with his elbow on the
banister, and bis cheek resting on his hand, with his
usual crafty aspect. Whenever he varied this attitude
in the slightest degree — so much as by the gentlest mo-
tion of his arm — the uproar was certain to increase, not
merely there, but in the lobby below; from which place,
no doubt, some man who acted as fugleman to the rest,
was constantly looking up and watching him.
" Order !" cried Hugh, in a voice which made itself
heard even above the roar and tumult, as Lord George
appeared at the top of the staircase. " News! News
from my lord !"
The noise continued, notwithstanding his appearance,
until Gashford looked round. There was silence imme-
diately — even among the people in the passages with-
out, and on the other staircases, who could neither see
nor hear, but to whom, notwithstanding, the signal was
conveyed with marvellous rapidity.
" Gentlemen," said Lord George, who was very pale
BARNABY RUDGE.
243
and agitated, "We must be firm. They talk of delays,
but we must have no delays. They talk of taking your
petition into consideration next Tuesday, but we must
have it considered now. Present appearances look bad
for our success, but we must succeed and will! "
"We must succeed and will!" echoed the crowd
And so among their shouts and cheers and other cries,
he bowed to them and retired, and presently came back
again. There was another gesture from Gashford, and
a dead silence directly.
"I am afraid," he said, this time, " that we have little
reason, gentlemen, to hope for any redress from the pro-
ceedings of Parliament. But we must redress our own
grievances, we must meet again, we must put our trust
in Providence, and it will bless our endeavors."
This speech being a little more temperate than the
last, was not so favorably received. When the noise
and exasperation were at their height, he came back
once more, and told them that the alarm had gone forth
for many miles round; that when the King heard of
their assembling together in that great body, he had
no doubt, His Majesty would send down private orders
to have their wishes complied with; and — with the
manner of his speech as childish, irresolute, and uncer-
tain as his matter — was proceeding in this strain, when
two gentlemen suddenly appeared at the door where
he stood, and pressing past him and coming a step or
two lower down upon the stairs, confronted the people.
The boldness of this action quite took them by sur-
prise. They were not the less disconcerted, when one
of the gentlemen, turning to Lord George, spoke thus —
in a loud voice that they might hear him well, but quite
coolly and collectedly.
244
BARNABY RUDGE.
" You may tell these people, if you please, my lord,
that I am General Conway of whom they have heard;
and that I oppose this petition, and all their proceed-
ings, and yours. I am a soldier, you may tell them,
and I will protect the freedom of this place with my
sword. You see, my lord, that the members of this
House are all in arms to-day ; you know that the en-
trance to it is a narrow one; you cannot be ignorant
that there are men within these walls who are deter-
mined to defend that pass to the last, and before whom
many lives must fall if your adherents persevere. Have
a care what you do."
"And my Lord George," said the other gentleman,
addressing him in like manner, " I desire them to hear
this, from me — Colonel Gordon — your near relation.
If a man among this crowd, whose uproar strikes us
deaf, crosses the threshold of the House of Commons,
I swear to run my sword that moment — not into his,
but into your body !"
With that, they stepped back again, keeping their
faces towards the crowd; took each an arm of the mis-
guided nobleman; drew him into the passage, and shut
the door; which they directly locked and fastened on
the inside.
This was so quickly done, and the demeanor of both
gentlemen — who were not young men either — was so
gallant and resolute, that the crowd faltered and stared
at each other with irresolute and timid looks. Many
tried to turn towards the door; some of the faintest-
hearted cried that they had best go back, and called
to those behind to give way ; and the panic and con-
fusion were increasing rapidly, when Gashford whia-
pered Hugh.
BARNABT RUDGE.
245
" What now ! " Hugh roared aloud, turning towards
them. " Why go back ? Where can you do better than
here, boys ! One good rush against these doors and one
below at the same time, will do the business. Rush on,
then ! As to the door below, let those stand back who are
afraid. Let those who are not afraid, try who shall be
the first to pass it. Here goes! Look out down there ! "
Without the delay of an instant, he threw himself
headlong over the banisters into the lobby below. He
had hardly touched the ground when Barnaby was at
his side. The chaplain's assistant, and some members
who were imploring the people to retire, immediately
withdrew ; and then, with a great shout, both crowds
threw themselves against the doors pell-mell, and be-
sieged the House in earnest.
At that moment, when a second onset must have
brought them into collision with those who stood on
the defensive within, in which case great loss of life and
bloodshed would inevitably have ensued, — the hindmost
portion of the crowd gave way, and the rumor spread
from mouth to mouth that a messenger had been de-
spatched by water for the military, who were forming in
the street. Fearful of sustaining a charge in the narrow
passages in which they were so closely wedged together,
the throng poured out as impetuously as they had flocked
in. As the whole stream turned at once, Barnaby and
Hugh went with it: and so, fighting and struggling and
trampling on fallen men, and being trampled on in turn
themselves, they and the whole mass floated by degree*
into the open street, where a large detachment of the
Guards, both horse and foot, came hurrying up; clearing
the ground before them so rapidly that the people seemed
to mel". away as they advanced.
246
BARNABY BUDGE.
The word of command to halt being given, the soldiers
formed across the street; the rioters, breathless and ex-
hausted with their late exertions, formed likewise, though
in a very irregular and disorderly manner. The com-
manding officer rode hastily into the open space between
the two bodies, accompanied by a magistrate and an
officer of the House of Commons, for whose accommo-
dation a couple of troopers had hastily dismounted. The
Riot Act was read, but not a man stirred.
In the first rank of the insurgents, Barnaby and Hugh
stood side by side. Somebody had thrust into Barnaby's
hands when he came out into the street, his precious
flag; which, being now rolled up and tied round the
pole, looked like a giant quarter-staff as he grasped it
firmly and stood upon his guard. If ever man believed
with his whole heart and soul that he was engaged in a
just cause, and that he was bound to stand by his leader
to the last, poor Barnaby believed it of himself and Lord
George Gordon.
After an ineffectual attempt to make himself heard,
the magistrate gave the word and the Horse Guards
came riding in among the crowd. But, even then, he
galloped here and there, exhorting the people to dis-
perse; and, although heavy stones were thrown at the
men, and some were desperately cut and bruised, they
had no orders but to make prisoners of such of the
rioters as were the most active, and to drive the people
back with the flat of their sabres. As the horses came
in among them, the throng gave way at many points, and
the Guards, following up their advantage, were rapidly
clearing the ground, when two or three of the foremost,
who were in a manner cut off from the rest by the people
closing round them, made straight towards Barnaby and
BARNABY BUDGE.
247
Hugh, who had no doubt been pointed out as the two
men who dropped into the lobby: laying about them
now with some effect, and inflicting on the more turbu-
lent of their opponents, a few slight flesh wounds, under
the influence of which a man dropped, here and there,
into the arms of his fellows, amid much groaning and
confusion.
At the sight of gashed and bloody faces, seen for a
moment in the crowd, then hidden by the press, around
them, Barnaby turned pale and sick. But he stood his
ground, and grasping his pole more firmly yet, kept his
eye fixed upon the nearest soldier—nodding his head
meanwhile, as Hugh, with a scowling visage, whispered
in his ear.
The soldier came spurring on, making his horse rear
as the people pressed about him, cutting at the hands of
those who would have grasped his rein and forced his
charger back, and waving to his comrades to follow —?
and still Barnaby, without retreating an inch, waited for
his coming. Some called to him to fly, and some were
in the very act of closing round him, to prevent his being
taken, when the pole swept the air above the people's
heads, and the man's saddle was empty in an instant.
Then, he and Hugh turned and fled ; the crowd open-
ing to let them pass, and closing up again so quickly that
there was no clew to the course they had taken. Pant-
ing for breath, hot, dusty, and exhausted with fatigue,
they reached the river side in safety, and getting into a
boat with all despatch were soon out of any immediate
danger.
As they glided down the river, they plainly heard the
people cheering ; and supposing they might have forced
the soldiers to retreat, lay upon their oars for a few
248
BARNABY BUDGE.
minutes, uncertain whether to return or not. But the
crowd passing along Westminster Bridge, soon assured
them that the populace were dispersing; and Hugh
rightly guessed from this, that they had cheered the
magistrate for offering to dismiss the military on con-
dition of their immediate departure to their several
homes, and that he and Barnaby were better where
they were. He advised, therefore, that they should
proceed to Blackfriars, and, going ashore at the bridge,
make the best of their way to The Boot; where there
was not only good entertainment and safe lodging, but
where they would certainly be joined by many of their
late companions. Barnaby assenting, they decided on
this course of action, and pulled for Blackfriars ac-
cordingly.
They landed at a critical time, and fortunately for
themselves at the right moment. For, coming into
Fleet-street, they found it in an unusual stir; and in-
quiring the cause, were told that a body of Horse Guards
had just galloped past, and that they were escorting some
rioters whom they had made prisoners, to Newgate for
safety. Not at all ill-pleased to have so narrowly
escaped the cavalcade, they lost no more time in ask-
ing questions, but hurried to The Boot with as much
speed as Hugh considered it prudent to make, without
appearing singular or attracting an inconvenient share
of public notice.
barnaby rudge.
249
CHAPTER L.
Thet were among the first to reach the tavern, bnt
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 a opportunity! But it led to
nothing. 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 a'n'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
disperse, I'll order off the military,' — our people sets up
a hurrah, throws up the game with the winning cards in
250
BARNABY RUDGE.
their hands, and skulks away like a pack of tame curs as
they are. Ah," said the hangman, in a tone of deep dis-
gust, " it makes me blush for my feller 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 1 was a horned animal at the pres-
ent 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 at all relaxing the grim and dissatis-
fied expression of his face, the gloom of which was
rather deepened than dissipated by their grateful in-
fluence.
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, ex-
ertion, 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 al-
ready, and sensible that after all they had carried no
point, but had indeed left matters worse than they had
found them. Of those who had come to The Boot,
many dropped off within an hour; such of them as
were really honest and sincere, never, after the morn-
BAENABY BUDGE.
251
ing's experience, to return, or to hold any communica-
tion with their late companions. Others remained but
to refresh themselves, and then went home desponding;
others who had theretofore been regular in their attend-
ance, avoided the place altogether. The half-dozen pris-
oners whom the Guards had taken, were magnified by
report into half a hundred at least; and their friends, be-
ing 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 Bar-
naby, were left alone. Even they were fast asleep upon
the benches, when Gashford's entrance roused them,
u Oh! You are here then ? " said the secretary. " Dear
me!"
u Why, where should we be, Muster Gashford !" Den-
nis rejoined as he rose into a sitting posture.
" Oh nowhere, nowhere," he returned with excessive
mildness. 4< 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.
u Oh dear, no. Not I. No orders, my good fellow.
What orders should I have ? You are not in my ser-
vice."
u 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
252
BABNABY RUDGE.
trouble. That, and my lord's vexation, are the only
circumstances 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 between
himself and Mr. Dennis, ventured to stay his hand, and
to ask him why he meddled with that ribbon in his hat
" Because," said the secretary, looking up with
something 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
were trampling you 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
io nothing—just what you did, in short. This is the
young man who had so little prudence and so much bold-
ness. Ah ! I am sorry for him."
" Sorry, master! " cried Hugh.
" Sorry, Muster Gashford!" echoed Dennis.
" In case there should be a proclamation out to-mor-
BARNABY BUDGE.
253
row, offering five hundred pounds, or some such trifle,
for his apprehension; and in case it should include an-
other man who dropped into the lobby from the stairs
above," said Gashford, coldly; " still, do nothing."
"Fire and fury, master!" cried Hugh, starting up.
u 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.
" Anywhere ! Anything! " cried Hugh. " Stand aside,
master, or the window will serve our turn as well. Let
us out!"
" Ha, ha, ha! You are of such — of such an im-
petuous nature," said Gashford, changing his manner
for one of the utmost good-fellowship and the pleasant-
est 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
254
BARNABY RUDGE.
for that. He is a man of such desperate ardor!" 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 poised 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 impetuous 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 tow-
ards the busy town, and walked into the streets.
BARNABT RDDGE.
255
They were filled with people, for the rumor 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
that 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 consterna-
tion engendered, as if the city were invaded by a for-
eign 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 mur-
mur 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
Iriends were indeed approaching, he begged a moment's
shelter at a door which opened as he passed, and run-
ning with some other persons to an upjer window,
looked out upon the crowd.
They had torches among them, and the chief faces
256
BAKNABY KUDGK.
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
evident from the spoils they bore as trophies, which were
easily recognizable 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, Hugh, 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 falling 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 j 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 so many phantoms, not to be
forgotten all through life, and yet so many things that
could not be observed in one distracting glimpse — it
flitted 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
towards the spot; Gashfbrd, who just then emerged into
BARNABY BUDGE.
267
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!"
tol. n.
17
238
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER LI.
Promising as these outrages were to Gashford's view,
and much like business as they looked, they extended
that night no farther. The soldiers were again called
out, again they took half a dozen prisoners, and again
the crowd dispersed after a short and bloodless scuffle.
Hot and drunken though they were, they had not yet
broken all bounds and set all law and government at de-
fiance. Something of their habitual deference to the
authority erected by society for its own preservation yet
remained among them, and had its majesty been vindi-
cated in time, the secretary would have had to digest a
bitter disappointment.
By midnight, the streets were clear and quiet, and,
save that there stood in two parts of the town, a heap
of nodding walls and pile of rubbish, where there had
been at sunset a rich and handsome building, everything
wore its usual aspect. Even the Catholic gentry and
tradesmen, of whom there were many, resident in differ-
ent parts of the City and its suburbs, had no fear for
their lives or property, and but little indignation for the
wrong they had already sustained in the plunder and
destruction of their temples of worship. An honest
confidence in the government under whose protection
they had lived for many years, and a well-founded reli-
ance on the good feeling and right thinking of the great
mass of the community, with whom, notwithstanding
BARNABY RUDGF..
259
their religions differences, they were every day in habits
of confidential, affectionate, and friendly intercourse, re-
assured them, even under the excesses that had been
committed; and convinced them that they who were
Protestants in anything but the name, were no more to
be considered as abettors of these disgraceful occur-
rences, than they themselves were chargeable with the
ases of the block, the rack, the gibbet, and the stake, in
cruel Mary's reign.
The clock was on the stroke of one, when Gabriel
Varden, with his lady and Miss Miggs, sat waiting in
the little parlor. This fact; the toppling wicks of the
dull, wasted candles; the silence that prevailed; and
above all the nightcaps of both maid and matron, were
sufficient evidence that they had been prepared for bed
some time ago, and had some strong reason for sitting
up so far beyond their usual hour.
If any other corroborative testimony had been re-
quired, it would have been abundantly furnished in the
actions of Miss Miggs, who, having arrived at that rest-
less state and sensitive condition of the nervous system
which are the result of long watching, did, by a constant
rubbing and tweaking of her nose, a perpetual change
of position (arising from the sudden growth of imagin-
ary knots and knobs in her chair), a frequent friction of
her eyebrows, the incessant recurrence of a small cough,
a small groan, a gasp, a sigh, a sniff, a spasmodic start,
and by other demonstrations of that nature, so file down
and rasp, as it were, the patience of the locksmith, that
after looking at her in silence for some time, he at last
broke out into this apostrophe :
" Miggs, my good girl, go to bed — do go to bed.
You're really worse than the dripping of a hundred
260
BARNABY RUDGE.
water-butts outside the window, or the scratching of as
many mice behind the wainscot. I can't bear it Do
go to bed, Miggs. To oblige me — do."
" You haven't got nothing to untie, sir," returned Miss
Miggs, "and therefore your requests does not surprise
me. But Missis has — and while you set up, mim " —
she added, turning to the locksmith's wife, "I couldn't,
no not if twenty times the quantity of cold water was
aperiently running down my back at this moment, go to
bed with a quiet spirit."
Having spoken these words, Miss Miggs made divers
efforts to rub her shoulders in an impossible place, and
shivered from head to foot; thereby giving the beholders
to understand that the imaginary cascade was still in full
flow, but that a sense of duty upheld her under that, and
all other sufferings, and nerved her to endurance.
Mrs. Varden being too sleepy to speak, and Miss
Miggs having, as the phrase is, said her say, the lock-
smith had nothing for it but to sigh and be as quiet as
he could.
But to be quiet with such a basilisk before him, was
impossible. If he looked another way, it was worse to
feel that she was rubbing her cheek, or twitching her
ear, or winking her eye, or making all kinds of extraor-
dinary shapes with her nose, than to see her do it. If
she was for a moment free from any of these complaints,
it was only because of her foot being asleep, or of her
arm having got the fidgets, or of her leg being doubled
up with the cramp, or of some other horrible disorder
which racked her whole frame. Tf she did enjoy a
moment's ease, then with her eyes shut and her mouth
wide open, she would be seen to sit very stiff and up-
right in her chair; then to nod a little way forward, and
BARNABY RUDGE.
261
stop with a jerk ; then to nod a little farther forward,
and stop with another jerk; then to recover herself;
then to come forward again — lower — lower—lower
— by very slow degrees, until, just as it seemed impos
sible that she could preserve her balance for another in-
stant, and the locksmith was about to call out in an
agony, to save her from dashing down upon her forehead
and fracturing her skull, then all of a sudden and with-
out the smallest notice, she would come upright and
rigid again with her eyes open, and in her countenance
an expression of defiance, sleepy but yet most obstinate,
which plainly said, " I've never once closed 'em since I
looked at you last, and I'll take my oath of it! "
At length, after the clock had struck two, there was a
sound at the street-door, as if somebody had fallen
against the knocker by accident. Miss Miggs imme-
diately jumping up and clapping her hands, cried with a
drowsy mingling of the sacred and profane, Ally Looyer,
mim ! there's Simmuns's knock! "
" Who's there ? " said Gabriel.
" Me ! " cried the well-known voice of Mr. Tappertit.
Gabriel opened the door, and gave him admission.
He did not cut a very insinuating figure; for a man
of his stature suffers in a crowd; and having been active
in yesterday morning's work, his dress was literally
crushed from head to foot ; his hat being beaten out of
all shape, and his shoes trodden down at heel like slip-
pers. His coat fluttered in strips about him, the buckles
were torn away both from his knees and feet, half his
neckerchief was gone, and the bosom of his shirt was
rent to tatters. Yet notwithstanding all these personal
disadvantages ; despite his being very weak from heat
and fatigue ; and so begrimed with mud and dust that
262
BARNABY rudge.
lie might have been in a case, for anything of the real
texture (either of his skin or apparel) that the eye could
discern ; he stalked haughtily into the parlor, and throw-
ing himself into a chair, and endeavoring to thrust his
hands into the pockets of his small-clothes, which were
turned inside out and displayed upon his legs, like tas-
sels, surveyed the household with a gloomy dignity.
" Simon," said the locksmith gravely, " How comes it
that you return home at this time of night, and in this
condition? Give me an assurance that you have not
been among the rioters, and I am satisfied."
i " Sir," replied Mr. Tappertit, with a contemptuous look,
" I wonder at your assurance in making such demands."
" You have been drinking," said the locksmith. t
"As a general principle, and in the most offensive
sense of the words, sir," returned his journeyman with
great self-possession, "I consider you a liar. In that
last observation you have unintentionally — uninten-
tionally sir — struck upon the truth."
" Martha," said the locksmith, turning to his wife, and
shaking his head sorrowfully, while a smile at the ab-
surd figure before him still played upon his open face,
" I trust it may turn out that this poor lad is not the
victim of the knaves and fools we have so often had
words about, and who have done so much harm to-day.
If he has been at Warwick Street or Duke Street to-
night" — 3
" He has been at neither, sir," cried Mr. Tappertit in
a loud voice, which he suddenly dropped into a whisper,
as he repeated, with eyes fixed upon the locksmith, " he
has been at neither."
"I am glad of it, with all my heart," said the locksmith
in a serious tone; " for if he had been, and it could be
BARNABY RUDGE.
263
proved against him, Martha, your Great Association
would have been to him the cart that draws men to the
gallows and leaves them hanging in the air. It would,
as sure as we're alive!"
Mrs. Varden was too much scared by Simon's altered
manner and appearance, and by the accounts of the
rioters which had reached her ears that night, to offer
any retort, or to have recourse to her usual matrimonial
policy. Miss Miggs wrung her hands, and wept.
" He was not at Duke Street or at Warwick Street,
G. Varden," said Simon, sternly; " but he was at West-
minster. Perhaps, sir, he kicked a county member, per-
haps, sir, he tapped a lord — you may stare, sir, I repeat
it — blood flowed from noses, and perhaps he tapped a
lord. Who knows ? This," he added, putting his hand
into his waistcoat-pocket, and taking out a large tooth,
at the sight of which both Miggs and Mrs. Varden
screamed, " this was a bishop's. Beware, G. Varden ! "
" Now, I would rather," said the locksmith hastily,
"have paid five hundred pounds, than had this come to
pass. You idiot, do you know what peril you stand
in?"
" I know it, sir," replied his journeyman, " and it is
my glory. I was there, everybody saw me there. I
was conspicuous and prominent. I will abide the con-
sequences."
The locksmith, really disturbed and agitated, paced to
and fro in silence — glancing at his former 'prentice
every now and then — and at length stopping before
him, said: —
"Get to bed, and sleep for a couple of hours that you
may wake penitent, and with soma of your senses about
you. Be sorry for what you have done, and we yyill try
264
BARNABY BUDGE.
to save you. If I call him by five o'clock," said Varden,
turning hurriedly to his wife, "and he washes himself
clean and changes his dress, he may get to the Tower
Stairs, and away by the Gravesend tide-boat, before any
search is made for him. From there he can easily get
on to Canterbury, where your cousin will give him work
till this storm has blown over. I am not sure that I do
right in screening him from the punishment he deserves,
but he has lived in this house, man and boy, for a dozen
years, and I should be sorry if for this one day's work
he made a miserable end. Lock the front-door, Miggs,
and show no light towards the street when you go up-
stairs. Quick, Simon ! Get to bed! "
"And do you suppose, sir," retorted Mr. Tappertit,
with a thickness and slowness of speech which contrasted
forcibly with the rapidity and earnestness of his kind-
hearted master —" and do you suppose, sir, that I am
base and mean enough to accept your servile proposi-
tion ? — Miscreant !"
" Whatever you please, Sim, but get to bed. Eveiy
minute is of consequence. The light here, Miggs !"
" Yes, yes, oh do! Go to bed directly," cried the two
women together.
Mr. Tappertit stood upon his feet, and pushing bis
chair away to show that he needed no assistance, an-
swered, swaying himself to and fro, and managing his
head as if it had no connection whatever with his
body: —
"You spoke of Miggs, sir—Miggs may be smotb-
ered !"
" Oh Simmun !" ejaculated that young lady in a faint
voice. " Oh mim! Oh sir! Oh goodness gracious,
what a turn he has give me!"
barnaby kudge.
265
" This family may all be smothered, sir," returned Mr.
Tappertit, after glancing at her with a smile of ineffable
disdain, " excepting Mrs. V. I have come here, sir, for
her sake, this night. Mrs. Varden, take this piece of
paper. It's a protection, ma'am. Yota may need it"
With these words he held out at arm's length, a dirty,
crumpled scrap of writing. The locksmith took it from
him, opened it, and read as follows : —
" All good friends to our cause, I hope will be partic-
ular, and do no injury to the property of any true Prot-
estant. I am well assured that the proprietor of this
house is a stanch and worthy friend to the cause.
a George Gordon."
"What's this!" said the locksmith, with an altered
face.
" Something that'll do you good service, young feller,"
replied his journeyman, " as you'll find. Keep that safe,
and where you can lay your hand upon it in an instant.
And chalk ' No Popery' on your door to-morrow night,
and for a week to come — that's all."
" This is a genuine document," said the locksmith, " I
know, for I have seen the hand before. What threat
does it imply ? What devil is abroad ? "
" A fiery devil," retorted Sim ; " a flaming furious
devil. Don't you put yourself in its way, or you're done
for, my buck. Be warned in time, G. Varden. Fare-
well!"
But here the two women threw themselves in his way
— especially Miss Miggs, who fell upon him with such
Tervor that she pinned him against the wall — and ton-
jured him in moving words not to go forth till he was
266
13ARNABY RUDGE.
sober; to listen to reason; to think of it; to take some
rest, and then determine.
"I tell you," said Mr. Tappertit, "that my mind is
made up. My bleeding country calls me and I go!
Miggs, if you don't get out of the way, I'll pinch you."
Miss Miggs, still clinging to the rebel, screamed once
vociferously — but whether in the distraction of her
mind, or because of his having executed his threat, is
uncertain.
" Release me," said Simon, struggling to free himself
from her. chaste, but spider-like embrace. " Let me go!
I have made arrangements for you in an altered state of
society, and mean to provide for you comfortably in life
— there! Will that satisfy you ? "
" Oh Simmun !" cried Miss Miggs. " Oh my blessed
Simmun ! Oh mim! what are my feelings at this con-
Hiding moment!"
Of a rather turbulent description, it would seem; for
her nightcap had been knocked off in the scuffle, and she
was on her knees upon the floor, making a strange reve-
lation of blue and yellow curl-papers, straggling locks of
hair, tags of staylaces, and strings of it's impossible to
say what; panting for breath, clasping her hands, turn-
ing her eyes'upwards, shedding abundance of tears, and
exhibiting various other symptoms of the acutest mental
suffering.
"I leave," said Simon, turning to his master, with an
utter disregard of Miggs's maidenly affliction, " a box of
things up-stairs. Do what you like with 'em. I don't
want 'em. I'm never coming back here, any more.
Provide yourself, sir, with a journeyman ; I'm my coun-
tiy's journeyman; henceforward that's my line of busi-
ness."
BARNABY RUDGE.
267
" ®e what you like in two hours' time, but now go up
to bed," returned the locksmith, planting himself in the
door-way. " Do you hear me ? Go to bed !"
'• I hear you, and defy you, Varden," rejoined Simon
Tappertit. " This night, sir, I have been in the country,
planning an expedition which shall fill your bell-hanging
soul with wonder and dismay. The plot demands my
utmost energy. Let me pass !"
" I'll knock you down if you come near the door,"
replied the locksmith. " You had better go to bed !"
Simon made no answer, but gathering himself up as
straight as he could, plunged head foremost at his old
master, and the two went driving out into the workshop
together, plying their hands and feet so briskly that they
looked like half a dozen, while Miggs and Mrs Varden
screamed for twelve.
It would have been easy for Varden to knock his old
'prentice down, and bind him hand and foot; but as he
was loath to hurt him in his then defenceless state, he
contented himself with parrying his blows when he could,
taking them in perfect good part when he could not, and
keeping between him and the door, until a favorable op-
portunity should present itself for forcing him to retreat
up-stairs, and shutting him up in his own room. But, in
the goodness of his heart, he calculated too much upon his
adversary's weakness, and forgot that drunken men who
have lost the~power of walking steadily, can often run.
Watching his time, Simon Tappertit made a cunning
show of falling back, staggered unexpectedly forward,
crushed past him, opened the door (he knew the trick of
'hat lock well), and darted down the street like a mad
dog. The locksmith paused for a moment in the excess
of his astonishment, and then gave chase.
268
BARNABY KUDGE.
It was an excellent season for a run, for at that sileni
hour the streets were deserted, the air was cool, and the
flying figure before him distinctly visible at a great dis-
tance, as it sped away, with a long gaunt shadow follow-
ing at its heels. But the short-winded locksmith had
no chance against a man of Sim's youth and spare
figure, though the day had beet, when he could have
run him down in no time. The space between them
rapidly increased, and as the rays of the rising sun
streamed upon Simon in the act of turning a distant
corner, Gabriel Varden was fain to give up, and sit down
on a door-step to fetch his breath. Simon meanwhile,
without once stopping, fled at the same degree of swift-
ness to The Boot, where, as he well knew, some of, his
company were lying, and at which respectable hostelry
— for he had already acquired the distinction of being
in great peril of the law — a friendly watch had been
expecting him all night, and was even now on the look-
out for his coming. j ,
" Go thy ways, Sim, go thy ways," said the locksmith,
as soon as he could speak. " I have done my best for
thee, poor lad, and would have saved thee, but the rope
is round thy neck, I fear."
So saying, and shaking his head in a very sorrowful
and discon.»olate manner, he turned back, and soon re
entered his own house, where Mrs. Varden and .the.
faithful Miggs had been anxiously expecting his return.
Now Mrs. Varden (and by consequence Miss Miggs
likewise) was Impressed with a secret misgiving that she
had done wrong; Jthat she had to the utmost of her small
means, aided and abetted the growth of disturbances, the
end of which it was impossible to foresee ; that she had
led remotely to the scene which had just passed ; and
BARNABY RUDGE.
269
that the locksmith's time for triumph and reproach had
now arrived indeed. And so strongly did Mrs. Varden
feel this, and so crestfallen was she in consequence, that
while her husband was pursuing their lost journeyman,
she secreted under her chair the little red-brick dwell-
ing-house with the yellow roof, lest it should furnish
new occasion for reference to the painful theme t and
now hid the same still more, with the skirts of her
dress.
But it happened that the locksmith had been thinking
of this very article on his way home, and that, coming
into the room and not seeing it, he at once demanded
where it was.
Mrs. Varden had no resource but to produce it, which
she did with many tears, and broken protestations that
if she could have known —
" Yes, yes," said Varden, " of course — I know that.
I don't mean to reproach you, my dear. But recollect
from this time that all good things perverted to evil
purposes, are worse than those which are naturally bad.
A thoroughly wicked woman, is wicked indeed. When
religion goes wrong, she is very wrong, for the same
reason. Let us say no more about it, my dear."
So he dropped the red-brick dwelling-house on the
floor, and setting his heel upon it, crushed it into pieces.
The halfpence, and sixpences, and other voluntary con-
tributions, rolled about in all directions, but nobody of-
fered to touch them, or to take them up.
* " That," said the locksmith, " is easily disposed of,
and I would to Heaven that everything growing out of
the same society could be settled as easily."
" It happens very fortunately, Varden," said his wife,
with her handkerchief to her eyes, " that in case any
270
BARNABY RUDGE.
more disturbances should happen — which I hope not;
I sincerely hope not " —
"I hope so too, my dear."
—" That in case any should occur, we have the
piece of paper which that poor misguided young man
brought."
"Ay, to be sure," said the locksmith, turning quickly
round. " Where is that piece of paper ? "
Mrs. Varden stood aghast as he took it from her out-
stretched hand, tore it into fragments, and threw them
under the grate.
" Not use it ? " she said.
" Use it!" cried the locksmith. " No 1 Let them
come and pull the roof about our ears ; let them burn
us out of house and home; I'd neither have the pro-
tection of their leader, nor chalk their howl upon my
door, though, for not doing it, they shot me on my own
threshold. Use it! Let them come and do their worst.
The first man who crosses my door-step on such an er-
rand as theirs, had better be a hundred miles away.
Let him look to it. The others may have their will. I
wouldn't beg or buy them off, if, instead of every pound
of iron in the place, there was a hundred weight of gold.
Get you to bed, Martha. I shall take down the shutters
and go to work.
" So early ! " said his wife.
" Ay," replied the locksmith cheerily, " so early. Come
when they may, they shall not find us skulking and hid-
ing, as if we feared to take our portion of the light of
day, and left it all to them. So pleasant dreams to you,
my dear, and cheerful sleep !"
With that he gave his wife a hearty kiss, and bade
her delay no longer, or it would be time to rise before
BARNABY RUDGE. 271
she lay down to rest. Mrs. Varden quite amiably and
meekly walked up-stairs, followed by Miggs, who, al-
though a good deal subdued, could not refrain from
sundry stimulative coughs and sniffs by the way, or
from holding up her hands in astonishment at the dar-
ing conduct of master, h > '
272
BARVABY BUDGE.
CHAPTER UL
A mob is usually a creature of very mysterious ex-
fetence, particularly in a large city. Where it comes
from or whither it goes, few men can tell. Assembling
and dispersing with equal suddenness, it is as difficult to
follow to its various sources as the sea itself; nor does
the parallel stop here, for the ocean is not more fickle
and uncertain, more terrible when roused, more unrea-
sonable, or more cruel.
The people who were boisterous at Westminster upon
the Friday morning, and were eagerly bent upon the
work of devastation in Duke Street and Warwick Street
at night, were, in the mass, the same. Allowing for the
chance accessions of which any crowd is morally sure in
a town where there must always be a large number of
idle and profligate persons, one and the same mob was
at both places. Yet they spread themselves in various
directions when they dispersed in the afternoon, made no
appointment for reassembling, had no definite purpose or
design, and indeed, for anything they knew, were seat-
tered beyond the hope of future union.
At The Boot, which, as has been shown, was in a
manner the head-quarters of the rioters, there were not,
opon this Friday night, a dozen people. Some slept in
(he stable and out-houses, some in the common room,
some two or three in beds. The rest were in their usual
homes or haunts. Perhaps not a score in all lay in the
BARNABY RTTD6E.
273
adjacent fields and lanes, and under haystacks, or near
the warmth of brick-kilns, who had not their accustomed
place of rest beneath the open sky. As to the public
ways within the town, they had their ordinary nightly
occupants, and no others ; the usual amount of vice and
wretchedness, but no more.
The experience of one evening, however, had taught
the reckless leaders of disturbance, that they had but to
show themselves in the streets, to be immediately sur-
rounded by materials which they could only have kept
together when their aid was not required, at great risk,
expense, and trouble. Once possessed of this secret,
they were as confident as if twenty thousand men, de-
voted to their will, had been encamped about them, and
assumed a confidence which could not have been sur-
passed, though that had really been the case. All day,
Saturday, they remained quiet. On Sunday they rather
studied how to keep their men within call, and in full
hope, than to follow out, by any very fierce measure,
their first day's proceedings.
" I hope," said Dennis, as, with a loud yawn, he raised
his body from a heap of straw on which he had been
sleeping, and supporting his head upon his hand, ap-
pealed to Hugh on Sunday morning, " that Muster
Gashford allows some rest? Perhaps he'd have us at
work again already, eh ? "
u It's not his way to let matters drop, you may be sure
of that," growled Hugh in answer. " I'm in no humor
to stir yet, though. I'm as stiff as a dead body, and as
full of ugly scratches as if I had been fighting all day
yesterday with wild cats."
" You've so much enthusiasm, that's it," said Dennis,
looking with great admiration at the uncombed head,
VOL. I»
274
BARNABY RJJDGF..
matted beard, and torn hands and face of the wild figure
before him ; " you're such a devil of a fellow. You hurt
yourself a hundred times more than you need, because
you will be foremost in everything, and will do more
than the rest."
" For the matter of that," returned Hugh, shaking
back his ragged hair and glancing towards the door of
the stable in which they lay; " there's one yonder as
good as me. What did I tell you about him? Did I
say he was worth a dozen, when you doubted him?"
Mr. Dennis rolled lazily over upon his breast, and
resting his chin upon his hand in imitation of the atti-
tude in which Hugh lay, said, as be, too, looked towards
the door: —
" Ay, ay, you knew him brother, you knew him. But
who'd suppose to look at that chap now, that he could be
the man he is ! Isn't it a thousand cruel pities, brother,
that instead of taking his nat'ral rest and qualifying him-
self for further exertions in this here honorable cause,
he should be playing at soldiers like a boy ? And his
cleanliness too! " said Mr. Dennis, who certainly had no
reason to entertain a fellow-feeling with anybody who
was particular on that score; " what weaknesses he's
guilty of, with respect to his cleanliness! At five o'clock
this morning, there he was at the pump, though any one
would think he had gone through enough, the day before
yesterday, to be pretty fast asleep at that time. But no
— when I woke for a minute or two, there he was at the
pump, and if you'd have seen him sticking them pea-
cock's feathers into his hat when he'd done washing
— ah ! I'm sorry he's such a imperfect character, hut
the best on us is incomplete in some pint of view or
anothex-."
BARNABY BUDGE.
275
The subject of this dialogue and of these concluding
remarks, winch were uttered in a tone of philosophical
meditation, was, as the reader will have divined, no other
than Barnaby, who, with his flag in his hand, stood
sentry in the little patch of sunlight at the distant door,
or walked to and fro outside, singing softly to himself
and keeping time to the music of some clear church
bells. Whether he stood still, leaning with both hands
oil the flagstaff", or, bearing it upon his shoulder, paced
slowly up and down, the careful arrangement of his poor
dress, and his erect and lofty bearing, showed how high
a sense he had of the great importance of his trust, and
how happy and how proud it made him. To Hugh and
his companion, who lay in a dark corner of the gloomy
shed, he, and the sunlight, and the peaceful Sabbath
sound to which he made response, seemed like a bright
picture framed by the door, and set off by the stable's
blackness. The whole formed such a contrast to them-
selves, as they lay wallowing, like some obscene animals,
in their squalor and wickedness on the two heaps of
straw, that for a few moments they looked on without
speaking, and felt almost ashamed.
" Ah !" said Hugh at length, carrying it off with a
laugh: " He's a rare fellow is Barnaby, and can do
more, with less rest, or meat, or drink, than any of
us. As to his soldiering, I put him on duty there."
" Then there was a object in it, and a proper good
one too, I'll be sworn," retorted Dennis with a broad
grin, and an oath of the same quality. " What was
it, brother ? "
"Why, you see," said Hugh, crawling a little nearer
to him, " that our noble captain yonder, came in yester-
day morning rather the worse for liquor, and was — like
you an 1 me — di'to lust : i^'a.
276
BARNABY RUDGE.
Dennis looked to where Simon Tappertit lay coiled
upon a truss of hay, snoring profoundly, and nodded.
" And our noble captain," continued Hugh with an-
other laugh, "our noble captain and I, have planned
for to-morrow a roaring expedition, with good profit
in it."
" Again, the papists ?" asked Dennis, rubbing his
hands.
" Ay, against the papists — against one of 'em at least,
that some of us, and I for one, owe a good heavy grudge
to."
" Not Muster Gashford's friend that he spoke to us
about in my house, eh?" said Dennis, brimful of
pleasant expectation.
"The same man," said Hugh.
" That's your sort," cried Mr. Dennis, gayly shaking
hands with him, " that's the kind of game. Let's have
revenges and injuries, and all that, and we shall get on
twice as fast. Now you talk, indeed !"
" Ha, ha, ha! The captain," added Hugh, " has
thoughts of carrying off a woman in the bustle, and
— ha, ha, ha ! — and so have I!"
Mr. Dennis received this part of the scheme with a
wry face, observing that as a general principle he ob-
jected to women altogether, as being unsafe and slippery
persons, on whom there was no calculating with any
certainty, and who were never in the same mind for
four-and-twenty hours at a stretch. He might have
expatiated on this suggestive theme at much greater
length, but that it occurred to him to ask what connec-
tion existed between the proposed expedition and Bar-
naby's being posted at the stable-door as sentry; to
which Hugh cautiously replied in these words: —
B.viiNaisy m;ix;e.
27/
u Why, the people we mean to visit, were friends of
his, once upon a time, and I know that much of him to
feel pretty sure that if he thought we were going to do
them any harm, he'd be no friend to our side, but would
lend a ready hand to the other. So I've persuaded hiin
(for I know him of old) that Lord George has picked
him out to guard this place to-morrow while we're away,
and that it's a great honor — and so he's on duty now,
aud as proud of it as if he was a general. Ha, ha!
What do you say to me for a careful man as well as
a devil of a one ? "
Mr. Dennis exhausted himself in compliments, and
then added: —
" But about the expedition itself" —
" About that," said Hugh, " you shall hear all partieu-
lars from me and the great captain conjointly and both
together — for see, he's waking up. Rouse yourself lion-
heart. Ha, ha! Put a good face upon it, and drink
again. Another hair of the dog that bit you, captain!
Call for drink! There's enough of gold and silver cups
and candlesticks buried underneath my bed," he added,
rolling back the straw, and pointing to where the ground
was newly turned, " to pay for it, if it was a score of
casks full. Drink captain!"
Mr. Tappertit received these jovial promptings with a
very bad grace, being much the worse, both in mind and
body, for his two nights of debauch, and but indifferently
able to stand upon his legs. With Hugh's assistance,
however, he contrived to stagger to the pump ; and hav-
ing refreshed himself with an abundant draught of cold
water, and a copious shower of the same refreshing liquid
on his head and face, he ordered some rum and milk to
he served; and upon that innocent beverage and some
278
BARNABY RUDGE.
biscuits and cheese made a pretty hearty meal. That
done, he disposed himself in an easy attitude on the
ground beside his two companions (who were carousing
after their own tastes), and proceeded to enlighten Mr.
Dennis in reference to to-morrow's project.
That their conversation was an interesting one, was
rendered manifest by its length, and by the close atten-
tion of all three. That it was not of an oppressively
grave character, but was enlivened by various pleasan-
tries arising out of the subject, was clear from their loud
and frequent roars of laughter, which startled Barnaby
on his post, and made him wonder at their levity. But
he was not summoned to* join them, until they had eaten,
and drunk, and slept, and talked together for some
hours; not, indeed, until the twilight; when they in-
formed him that they were about to make a slight
demonstration in the streets — just to keep the people's
hands in, as it was Sunday night, and the public might
otherwise be disappointed — and that he was free to ac-
company them if he would. ' '
Without the slightest preparation, saving that they
carried clubs and wore the blue cockade, they sallied out
into the streets; and, with no more settled design than
that of doing as much mischief as they could, paraded
them at random. Their numbers rapidly increasing,
they soon divided into parties; and agreeing to meet
by and by, in the fields near Welbeck-street, scoured
the town in various directions. The largest body, and
that which augmented with the greatest rapidity, was
the one to which Hugh and Barnaby belonged. This
took its way towards Moorfields, where there was a
rich chapel, and in which neighborhood several Catholic
families were known to reside.
BARNABY BUDGE.
279
Beginning with the private houses so occupied, they
broke open the doors and windows; and while they de-
stroyed the furniture and left but the bare walls, made
a sharp search for tools and engines of destruction, such
as hammers, pokers, axes, saws, and such like instru-
ments. Many of the rioters made belts of cord, of
handkerchiefs, or any material they found at hand, and
wore these weapons as openly as pioneers upon a field-
day. There was not the least disguise or concealment
— indeed, on this night, very little excitement or hurry.
From the chapels, they tore down and took away the
very altars, benches, pulpits, pews, and flooring; from
the dwelling-houses, the very wainscoting and stairs.
This Sunday evening's recreation they pursued like mere
workmen who had a certain task to do, and did it. Fifty
resolute men might have turned them at any moment; a
single company of soldiers could have scattered them
like dust; but no man interposed, no authority restrained
them, and, except by the terrified persons who fled fvom
their approach, they were as little heeded as if they were
pursuing their lawful occupations with the utmost sobriety
and good conduct.
In the same manner, they marched to the place of
rendezvous agreed upon, made great fires in the fields,
and reserving the most valuable of their spoils, burnt
the rest. Priestly garments, images of saints, rich stuffs
and ornaments, altar-furniture and household goods, were
cast into the flames, and shed a glare on the whole coun-
try round; but they danced, and howled, and roared
about these fires till they were tired, and were never for
an instant checked.
As the main body filed off from this scene of action,
and passed down Welbeck Street they came upon Gash-
280
RARNABY BODGE.
ford, who had been a witness of their proceedings, and
was walking stealthily along the pavement. Keeping
up with him, and yet not seeming to speak, Hugh mut
tered in his ear: —
" Is this better, master ? "
" No," said Gashford. " It is not."
" What would you have ? " said Hugh. " Fevers are
never at their height at once. They must get on by
degrees."
" I would have you," said Gashford, pinching his
arm with such malevolence that his nails seemed to
meet in the skin; " I would have you put some mean-
ing into your work. Fools! Can you make no better
bonfires than of rags and scraps ? Can you burn noth-
ing whole?"
" A little patience, master," said Hugh. " Wait but
a few hours, and you shall see. Look for a redness in
the sky, to-morrow night."
With that, he fell back into his place beside Barnaby;
and when the secretary looked after him, both were lost
in the crowd.
barnaby budge.
281
CHAPTER L1II.
The next day was ushered in by merry peals of bells,
and by the firing of the Tower guns ; flags were hoisted
on many of the church-steeples; the usual demonstra-
tions were made, in honor of the anniversary of the
King's birthday; and every man went about his pleas-
ure or business, as if the city were in perfect order, and
there were no half-smouldering embers in its secret
places which on the approach of night would kindle up
again, and scatter ruin and dismay abroad. The lead-
ers of the riot, rendered still more daring by the success
of last night and by the booty they had acquired, kept
steadily together, and only thought of implicating the
mass of their followers so deeply that no hope of pardon
or reward might tempt them to betray their more notori-
ous confederates into the hands of justice.
Indeed, the sense of having gone too far to be for-
given, held the timid together no less than the bold.
Many, who would readily have pointed out the foremost
rioters and given evidence against them, felt that escape
by that means was hopeless, when their every act had
been observed by scores of people who had taken no
part in the disturbances; who had suffered in their per-
6ons, peace, or property, by the outrages of the mob ;
who would be most willing witnesses; and whom the
government would, no doubt, prefer to any King's evi-
dence that might be offered. Many of this class had
282
BARNABY RUDGE.
deserted their usual occupations on the Saturday morn-
ing; some, had been seen by their employers, active in
the tumult; others, knew they must be suspected, and
that they would be discharged if they returned; others,
had been desperate from the beginning, and comforted
themselves with the homely proverb, that, being hanged
at all, they might as well be hanged for a sheep as a
lamb. They all hoped and believed, in a greater or
less degree, that the government they seemed to haVc
paralyzed, would, in its terror, come to terms with them
in the end, and suffer them to make their own conditions.
The least sanguine among them reasoned with himself
that, at the worst, they were too many to be all punished,
and that he had as good a chance of escape as any other
man. The great mass never reasoned or thought at all,
but were stimulated by their own headlong passions, by
poverty, by ignorance, by the love of mischief, and the
hope of plunder.
One other circumstance is worthy of remark; and
that is, that from the moment of their ijpst outbreak at
Westminster, every symptom of order or preconcerted
arrangement among them, vanished. When they divided
into parties and ran to different quarters of the town, it
was on the spontaneous suggestion of the moment Each
party swelled as it went along, like rivers as they roll
towards the sea; new leaders sprang up as they were
wanted, disappeared when the necessity was over, and
reappeared at the next crisis. Each tumult took shape
and form, from the circumstances of the moment; sober
workmen going home from their day's labor, were seen
to cast down I heir baskets of tools and become rioters
in an instant; mere boys on errands did the like. In
a word, a moral plague ran through the city. The
BARNABY RUDGE.
283
noise, and hurry, and excitement, had for hundreds and
hundreds an attraction they had no firmness to resist.
The contagion spread, like a dread fever: an infec-
tious madness, as yet not near its height, seized on
new victims every hour, and society began to tremble
at their ravings.
It was between two and three o'clock in the afternoon
wlien Gashford looked into the lair described in the last
chapter, and seeing only Barnaby and Dennis there, in-
quired for Hugh.
He was out, Barnaby told him ; had gone out more
than an hour ago; and had not yet returned.
" Dennis ! " said the smiling secretary, in his smooth-
est voice, as he sat down cross-legged on a barrel,
" Dennis!"
The hangman struggled into a sitting posture directly)
and with his eyes wide open, looked towards him.
" How do you do, Dennis ?" said Gashford, nodding.
" I hope you have suffered no inconvenience from your
late exertions, Dennis ? "
" I always will say of you, Muster Gashford," re-
turned the hangman, staring at him, " that that 'ere
quiet way of yours might almost wake a dead man. It
is," he added with a muttered oath — still staring at him
in a thoughtful manner — " ^o awful sly! "
" So distinct, eh Dennis ? "
" Distinct! " he answered, scratching his head, and
keeping his eyes upon the secretary's face; " I seem
to hear it, Muster Gashford, in my wery bones."
" I am very glad your sense of hearing is so sharp,
and that I succeed in making myself so intelligible,"
said Gashford, in his unvarying, even tone. " Where is
your friend ? "
284
BARNABT RUDGE.
Mr. Dennis looked round as in expectation of behold-
ing him asleep upon his bed of straw; then remem-
bering that he had seen him go out, replied: —
"I can't say where he is, Muster Gashford, I ex-
pected him back afore now. I hope it isn't time that
we was busy, Muster Gashford ? "
" Nay," said the secretary, " who should know that
as well as you ? How can I tell you, Dennis ? You
are perfect master of your own actions, you know, and
accountable to nobody — except sometimes to the law,
eh ? "
Dennis, who was very much baffled by the cool mat-
ter-of-course manner of this reply, recovered his self-
possession on his professional pursuits being referred
to, and pointing towards Barnaby, shook his head and
frowned.
" Hush !" cried Barnaby.
"Ah! Do hush about that, Muster Gashford," said
the hangman in a low voice, " pop'lar prejudices —
you always forget — well, Barnaby, my lad, what's the
matter ? "
" I hear him coming," he answered : " Hark ! Do
you mark that ? That's his foot! Bless you, I know
his step, and his dog's too. Tramp, tramp, pit-pat, on
they come together, and, ha, ha, ha! — and here they
are!" he cried joyfully, welcoming Hugh with both
hands, and then patting him fondly on the back, as if
instead of being the rough companion he was, he had
been one of the most prepossessing of men. " Here he
is, and safe too! I am glad to see him back again,
old Hugh!"
" I'm a Turk if he don't give me a warmer wel-
come always than any man of sense," said Hugh,
BARNABY RUDGE.
285
shaking hands with him with a kind of ferocious friend-
ship, strange enough to see. " How are you, boy ? "
" Hearty !" cried Barnaby, waving his hat. " Ha,
ha, ha ! And merry too, Hugh! And ready to do any-
thing for the good cause, and the right, and to help the
kind, mild, pale-faced gentleman — the lord they used so
ill — eh, Hugh ? "
" Ay !" returned his friend, dropping his hand, and
looking at Gashford for an instant with a changed ex-
pression before he spoke to him. " Good-day, master !"
" And good-day to you," replied the secretary, nurs-
ing his leg. " And many good days — whole years of
them, I hope. You are heated."
" So would you have been, master," said Hugh, wip-
ing his face, " if you'd been running here as fast as I
have."
" You know the news then ? Yes, I supposed you
would have heard it."
" News ! what news ! "
" You don't ? " cried Gashford, raising his eyebrows
with an exclamation of surprise. " Dear me ! Come ;
then I am the first to make you acquainted with your
distinguished position after all. Do you see the King's
Arms a-top ?" he smilingly asked, as he took a large
paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and held it out for
Hugh's inspection.
" Well! " said Hugh. " What's that to me ? "
"Much. A great deal," replied the secretary. "Read
it."
" 1 told you, the first time I saw you, that I couldn't
read," said Hugh, impatiently. " What in the Devil's
name's inside of it ? "
" It is a proclamation from the King in Council."
286
BARNABY RUDGE.
said Gashford, " dated to-day, and offering a reward
of five hundred pounds — five hundred pounds is a
great deal of money, and a large temptation to some
people i— to any one who will discover the person
or persons most active in demolishing those chapels on
Saturday night."
" Is that all ? " cried Hugh, with an indifferent air.
"I knew of that."
" Truly I might have known you did," said Gashford,
smiling and folding up the document again. " Your
friend, I might have guessed — indeed I did guess —
was sure to tell you."
" My friend ! " stammered Hugh, with an unsuccess-
ful effort to appear surprised. "What friend?"
" Tut tut — do you suppose I don't know where you
have been ? " retorted Gashford, rubbing his hands, and
beating the back of one on the palm of the other, and
looking at him with a cunning eye. " How dull yon
think me ! Shall I say his name ?" : '
" No," said Hugh, with a hasty glance towards Dennis.
" You have also heard from him, no doubt," resumed
the secretary, after a moment's pause, " that the rioters
who have been taken (poor fellows) are committed for
trial, and that some very active witnesses have had the
temerity to appear against them. Among others" — and
here he clinched his teeth, as if he would suppress, by
force, some violent words that rose upon his tongue; and
spoke very slowly. " Among others, a gentleman who
saw the work going on in Warwick Street; a Catholic
gentleman ; one Haredale."
Hugh would have prevented his uttering the word,
but it was out already. Hearing the name, Barnaby
turned swiftly round. 1
BARNABY RUDGE.
287
" Duty, duty, bold Barnaby !" cried Hugh, assuming
his wildest and most rapid manner, and thrusting into
his hand his staff and flag which leant against the wall.
" Mount guard without loss of time, for we are off upon
our expedition. Up, Dennis, and get ready! Take
care that no one turns the straw upon my bed, brave
Barnaby; we know what's underneath it — eh ? Now,
master, quick! What you have to say, say speedily, for
the little captain and a cluster of 'em are in the fields,
and only waiting for us. Sharp's the word, and strike's
the action. Quick ! "
Barnaby was not proof against this bustle and de
spatch. The look of mingled astonishment and angei
which had appeared in his face when he turned towards
them, faded from it as the words passed from his mem-
ory, like breath from a polished mirror; and grasping
the weapon which Hugh forced upon him, he proudly
took his station at the door, beyond their hearing.
" You might have spoiled our plans, master," said
Hugh. " Tom, too, of all men! "
" Who would have supposed that he would be so
quick ?" urged Gashford.
" He's as quick sometimes — I don't mean with his
hands, for that you know, but with his head — as you,
or any man," said Hugh. " Dennis, it's time we were
goingthey're waiting for us; I came to tell you.
Reach me my stick and belt. Here ! Lend a hand,
master. Fling this "over my shoulder, and buckle it
behind, will you ? "
" Brisk as ever !" said the secretary, adjusting it for
him as he desired.
" A man need be brisk to-day; there's brisk work
afoot."
288
BARNABY RODGE.
" There is, is there ? " said Gashford. He said it with
such a provoking assumption of ignorance, that Hugh,
looking over his shoulder and angrily down upon him,
replied: —
" Is there 1 You know there is 1 Who knows bet-
ter than you, master, that the first great step to be taken
is to make examples of these witnesses, and frighten
all men from appearing against us or any of our body,
any more?"
" There's one we know of," returned Gashford, with
an expressive smile, " who is at least as well informed
upon that subject as you or I."
" If we mean the same gentleman, as I suppose we
do," Hugh rejoined, softly, " I tell you this — he's as
good and quick information about everything as".— here
he paused and looked round, as if to make quite sure
that the person in question was not within hearing —
" as Old Nick himself. Have you done that, master ?
How slow you are !"
" It's quite fast now," said Gashford, rising. " I say
— you didn't find that your friend disapproved of to-
day's little expedition ? Ha, ha, ha! It is fortunate
it jumps so well with the witness' policy; for once
planned, it must have been carried out. And now you
are going, eh ? "
" Now we are going, master !" Hugh replied. "Any
parting words?" .. ,
"Oh dear, no," said Gashford sweetly. "None!"
" You're sure ?" cried Hugh, nudging the grinning
Dennis.
" Quite sure, eh, Muster Gashford ? " chuckled the
hangman.
Gashford paused a moment, struggling with his c&o-
BARNABY RUDGE.
289
tion and his malice ; then putting himself between the
two men, and laying a hand upon the arm of each, said,
in a cramped whisper:-—
" Do not, my good friends — I am sure you will not
— forget our talk one night — in your house, Dennis —
aliout this person. No mercy, no quarter, no two beams
of his house to be left standing where the builder placed
them 1 Fire, the saying goes, is a good servant, but a
had master. Make it his master; he deserves no bet-
ter. But I am sure you will be firm, I am sure you
will be very resolute, I am sure you will remember
that he thirsts for your lives, and those of all your
brave companions. If you ever acted like stanch fel-
lows, you will do so to-day. Won't you Dennis, — won't
you, Hugh?"
The two looked at him, and at each other; then burst-
ing into a roar of laughter, brandished their staves above
their heads, shook hands, and hurried out.
When they had been gone a little time, Gashford fbl-
lowed. They were yet in sight, and hastened to that
part of the adjacent fields in which their fellows had al-
ready mustered 5 Hugh was looking back, and flourishing
his hat to Barnaby, who, delighted with his trust, replied
in the same manner, and then resumed his pacing up
and down before the stable-door, where his feet had worn
a path already. And when Gashford himself was fai
distant, and looked back, for the last time, he was still
walking to and fro, with the same measured tread; the
most devoted and the blithest champion that ever main-
tained a post, and felt his heart lifted up with a brave
sense of duty, and determination to defend it to the last.
Smiling at the simplicity of the poor idiot, Gashford
betook himself to Welbeck Street by a different path
vol.. It. 19
290
BARNABY RUDGE.
from that which he knew the rioters would take, and
sitting down behind a curtain in one of the upper
windows of Lord George Gordon's bouse, waited impa-
tiently for their coming. They were so long, that al-
though he knew it had been settled they should come
that way, he had a misgiving they must have changed
their plans and taken some other route. But at length
the roar of voices was heard in the neighboring fields,
and soon afterwards they came thronging past, in a great
body. I
However, they were not all, nor nearly all, in one
body, but were, as he soon found, divided into four par-
ties, each of which stopped before the house to give
three cheers, and then went on ? the leaders crying out
in what direction they were going, and calling on the
spectators to join them. The first detachment, caiTyihg,
by way of banners, some relics of the havoc they had
made in Moorfields, proclaimed that they were on their
way to Chelsea, whence they would return in the same
order, to make of the spoil they bore, a great bonfire,
near at hand. The second gave out that they were
bound for Wapping, to destroy a chapel; the third, that
their place of destination was East Smithfield, and their
object the same. All this was done in broad, bright,
summer day. Gay carriages and chairs stopped to let
them pass, or turned back to avoid them; people on
foot stood aside in door-ways, or perhaps knocked and
begged permission to stand at a window, or in the hall,
until the rioters had passed : but nobody interfered with
them i and when they had gone by, everything went on
as usual.
There still remained the fourth body, and for that the
secretary looked with a most intense eagerness. At last
BARNABF RUDGE.
291
it came up It was numerous, and composed of picked
men ; for as he gazed down among them, he recognized
many upturned faces which he knew well — those of
Simon Tappertit, Hugh, and Dennis in the front, of
course. They halted and cheered, as the others had
done ; but when they moved again, they did not, like
them, proclaim what design they had. Hugh merely
riased his hat upon the bludgeon he carried, and glanc-
ing at a spectator on the opposite side of the way, was
gone.
Gashford followed the direction of his glance instinc-
tively, and saw, standing on the pavement, and wearing
the blue cockade, Sir John Chester. He held his hat
an inch or two above his head, to propitiate the mob;
and resting gracefully on his cane, smiling pleasantly,
and displaying his dress and person to the very best ad-
vantage, looked on in the most tranquil state imaginable.
For all that, and quick and dexterous as he was, Gash-
ford had seen him recognize Hugh with the air of a
patron. He had no longer any eyes for the crowd, but
fixed his keen regards upon Sir John.
He stood in the same place and posture, until the last
man in the concourse had turned the corner of the street;
then very deliberately took the blue cockade out of his
hat; put it carefully in his pocket, ready for the next
emergency ; refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff; put
up his box ; and was walking slowly off, when a passing
carriage stopped, and a lady's hand let down the glass.
Sir John's hat was off again immediately. After a
minute's conversation at the carriage-window, in which
it was apparent that he was vastly entertaining on the
subject of the mob, he stepped lightly in, and was driven
away.
292
BAKNABY BUDGE.
The secretary smiled, but he had other thoughts to
dwell upon, and soon dismissed the topic. Dinner was
brought him, but he sent it down untasted; and, in rest-
less pacings up and down the .room, and constant glances
at the clock, and many futile efforts to sit down and read,
or go to sleep, or look out of the window, consumed four
weary hours. When the dial told him thus much time
had crept away, he stole up-stairs to the top of the house,
and coming out upon the roof sat down, with his face
towards the east.
Heedless of the fresh air that blew upon his heated
brow, of the pleasant meadows from which he turned, of
the piles of roofs and chimneys upon which he looked,
of the smoke and rising mist he vainly sought to pierce,
of the shrill cries of children at their evening sports, the
distant hum and turmoil of the town, the cheerful coun-
try breath that rustled past to meet it, and to droop, and
die; he watched, and watched, till it was dark — save
for the specks of light that twinkled in the streets below
and far away — and, as the darkness deepened, strained
his gaze and grew more eager yet
" Nothing but gloom in that direction, still!" he mat-
tered restlessly. " Dog! where is the redness in the
sky, you promised me!"
BABNABY BUDGE.
293
7
' /
' CHAPTER LIV.
r ,, » s j , ,
Rumors of the prevailing disturbances had, by this
time, begun to be pretty generally circulated through the
towns and villages round London, and the tidings were
everywhere received with that appetite for the marvel-
lous and love of the terrible which have probably been
among the natural characteristics of mankind since the
creation of the world. These accounts, however, ap-
peared, to many persons at that day — as they would to
ua at the present, but that we know them to be matter
of -history-r— so monstrous and improbable, that a great
number of those who were resident at a distance, and
who were credulous enough on other points, were really
unable to bring their minds to believe that such things
could be ; and rejected the intelligence they received on
all hands, as wholly fabulous and absurd.
i Mr. Willet — not so much, perhaps, on account of his
having argued and settled the matter with himself, as by
reason of his constitutional obstinacy —r;was one of those
who positively refused to entertain the current topic
for a moment. On this very evening, and perhaps at
the very time when Gashford kept his solitary watch,
old John was so red in the faee with perpetually shaking
his head in contradiction of his three ancient cronies and
pot companions, that he was quite a phenomenon to be-
hold, and lighted up the Maypole Porch wherein they
sat together, like a monstrous carbuncle in a fairy tale.
BAftNAfcY RTTDGE.
" Do you think, sir," said Mr. Willet, looking hard at
Solomon Daisy — for it was his custom in cases of per-
sonal altercation to fasten upon the smallest man in the
party — " do you think sir, that I'm a born fool ? "
"No, no, Johnny," returned Solomen, looking round
upon the little circle bf which he formed a part: " We
all know better than that. You're no fool, Johnny. No,
no!" ' ' ■' ' >■ '
Mr. Cobb and Mr. Parke's shook their heads in unison,
muttering " No, no, Johnny, nbt you !" But fts such
compliments had usually the effect of making Mr. WiHet
rather more dogged than before, he surveyed them with
a look Of dfeep disdain, and returned fctr answer: —
* Then What do you mean by coining here, and telling
me that this fevening you're a-going to walk up to Lon-
don together -'"'you three ■M~ you — and have the evi-
detiCe of your own senses ? A'n't," said Mr. Willet, put-
ting his pipe in his mouth with an air of solemn disgust,
" a'n't the evidence of Vhy Senses enough for you ? "
" But we haven't got it, Johnny," pleaded Parke?,
humbly. f ' • " ' *! 1
"You haven't got it, Sir?" repeated Mr. Willet, ey-
ing him from top to toe. * You haVeh't got it, si*? You
ham got it, 'sir.1 Doh't I tell you that His blessed
Majesty King George the Third would ho more stand
a rioting and rollicking Ih his streets, than he'd stahd
being crowed over by his own Parliament ? " '
"Yes, Johnny, but that's yotir senses—not your
senses^" said the adventurous Mr. Parkes.
" How do you know," retorted John with great dig-
nity. " You're a-contradicting pretty free, you are, sir.
How do you know which it is ? I'm not aware I ever
'old yOu, sir." '•
BAKNABY BUDGE.
Mr. Parkes, finding himself in the position of having
got into metaphysics without exactly seeing his way out
of them, stammered forth an apology and retreated from
the argument. There then ensued a silence of some
ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, at the expiration
of which period Mr. Willet was observed to rumble and
shake with laughter, and presently remarked, in refer-
ence to- his late adversary, f that he hoped he had
tackled him enough." Thereupon Messrs. Cobb and
Daisy laughed, and nodded, and Parkes was looked
Upon as thoroughly and effectually put down.
" Do you suppose if all this was true, that Mr. Hare-,
dale would be constantly away from home, as he is ?r'
said John, after another silence, H Do you think he
wouldn't be qfraid to leave his house with them two
young women in it, and only a couple of men, or
SO ? " • r 1 . . , ,
" Ay, but then you know," returned Solomon Daisy,
* his house is a goodish way out of London, and they do
say that the rioters won't go more than two mile, or
three at farthest, off the stones. Besides, you know,
some of the Catholic gentlefolks have actually sent
trinkets and such-like down here for safety-^at least,
so the story goes." > . • •
# The story goes!" said Mr. Willet testily, f Yes
sir. The story goes that you saw a ghost last March.
But nobody believes it."
* Well!" said Solomon, rising, to divert the attention
of his two friends, who tittered at this retort: " believed
or disbelieved, it's true j and true or not, if we mean to
go to London, we must be going at once. So shake
hands, Johnny, and good-night."
l( I shall shake hands," returned the landlord, putting
296
BARNABY RUDGE.
his into his pockets, " with no man as goes to London on
such nonsensical errands."
The three cronies were therefore reduced to the neces-
sity of shaking his elbows; having performed that cere-
mony, and brought from the house their hats, and sticks,
and great-coats, they bade him good-night and departed;
promising to bring him on the morrow full and true ao-
counts of the real state of the city, and if it were quiet,
to give him the full merit of his victory.
John Willet looked after them, as they plodded along
the road in the rich glow of a summer evening; and
knocking the ashes out of his pipe, laughed inwardly at
their folly, until his sides were sore. When he had
quite exhausted himself—>- which took some time, for he
laughed as slowly as he thought and spoke—he sat
himself comfortably with his back to the house, put his
legs upon the bench, then his apron over his face, and
fell sound asleep. t i.
How long he slept, matters not; but it was for no
brief space, for when he awoke, the rich light had laded,
the sombre hues of night were falling fast upon the land-
scape, and a few bright stars were already twinkling
overhead. The birds were all at roost, the daisies on
the green had closed their fairy hoods, the honeysuckle
twining round the porch exhaled its perfume in a two-
fold degree, as though it lost its coyness at that silent
time and loved to shed its fragrance on the night; the
ivy scarcely stirred its deep green leaves. How tran-
quil, and how beautiful it was!
Was there no sound in the air, besides the gentle rus-
tling of the trees and the grasshopper's merry chirp?
Hark! Something very faint and distant, not unlike
the murmuring in a sea-shell. Now it grew louder,
BARNABY RUDGE.
297
fainter now, and now it altogether died away. Present-
ly it came again, subsided, came once more, grew louder
fainter — swelled into a roar... ■ It was on the road, and
varied with its windings. All at once it burst into a
distinct sound—rthe voices, and the tramping feet of
many men.
It is questionable whether old John Willet, even then,
would have thought of the rioters, but for the cries of
bis cook and house-maid, who ran screaming up-stairs
and locked themselves into one of the old garrets,—
shrieking ^dismally when they had done so, by way of
rendering their place of refuge perfectly secret and se-
cnre.-1 These two females did afterwards depone that
Mr. Willet in his consternation uttered but one word,
and called that up the stairs in a stentorian voice, six
distinct times. But as this word was a monosyllable,
which, however inoffensive when applied to the quad-
ruped it denotes, is highly reprehensible when used in
connection with females of unimpeachable character,
many persons were inclined to believe that the young
women labored under some hallucination caused by ex-
cessive fear; and that their ears deceived them.
Be this as it may, John Willet, in whom the very ut-
termost extent of dull-headed perplexity supplied the
place of courage, stationed himself in the porch, and
waited for their coming up. Once, k dimly occurred to
him that there was a kind of door to the house, which
had a lock and bolts; and at the same time some shad-
owy ideas of shutters to the lower windows, flitted
through his brain. But he stood stock-still, looking down
the road in the direction in which the noise, was rapidly
advancing, and did not so much as take his hands out of
his pockets • ! ■ -. ■ ' • ■ - *
298
BARNABY BUDGE.
He bad not to wait long. A dark mass, looming
through a cloud of dust, soon became visible; the mob
quickened their pace; shouting and whooping like eav-
ages, they came rusbing on pell-mell; and in a few sec
owls be was bandied from hand to band, in the heart at
a crowd of men. . .
" Holloa!" cried a voice he knew, as the man who
spoke came clearing through the throng. I t Where is
l»e?,i-Give him to me. Don't hurt him. How now,
old Jaek! Ha, ha, ha!" . •> ■' *
Air. Willet looked at him, and saw it was Hugh 5 but
he said nothing, and thought nothing. >. .
j-K These lads are thirsty and must drink 1" cried Hogh,
thrusting him back towards the house. " Bustle,- Jaek,
bustle. Show us the best — the very best — the over-
proof that you keep for your own drinking, Jack !"
John faintly articulated the words, u Who's to pay ? "
" He says,' Who's to pay 1'" cried Hugh, with a roar
of laughter which was loudly echoed by the crowd.
Then turning to John, he added, " Pay 1 Why, no-
body." . r ' 1
John stared round at the mass of faces — some grin-
ning, some fierce, some lighted up by torches, some in-
iistinct, some dusky and shadowy: some looking at him,
some at his bouse, some at each other — and while he
was, as he thoughtjsin the very act of doing so, found
himself, without any consciousness of having moved, in
the bar; sitting down in an arm-chair, and watching the
destruction of his property, as if k were some queer
play or entertainment, of an astonishing and stupefying
nature, but having no reference to himself — that he
could make out —at all.
Yes. Here was the bar — the bar that the boldest
BARNA6Y RUD&E.
29§
never entered without special invitatioft — the sanctuary,
the Mystery, the hallowed ground i here it was, crammed
with men, clubs, sticks, tordhes, pistols; filled with
a deafening noise, oaths, shouts, sCreanis, hootings ;'
changed all at once into a bear-gttrd'eti, a mad-house, an
nfernal temple: men darting in and out, by door ahd
window, Smashing the glass, turning the taps, drinking
liquor out of China punch-bowls, sitting astride df casks',
smoking private and personal pipes, cutting dowh the
sacred grove of lemons, hacking And hewing ait the cele-
brated cheese, breaking open invidlable drawers, putting
things in their pockets which didn't belong to them, di-
viding his own money before his own eyes, wantonly
wasting, breaking, pulling idoWh and tearing up 1 nbthing
quiet, nothing private: men everywhere — above, below,
overhead, hi the bedrooms, hi the kitchen, in the yard,
in the Stables — clamberittg in at wihdows when there
were doors wide open ; dropping out of windows when
the stairs were handy ; leaping over the banisters into
chasms of passages; new faces and figures presenting
themselves every instant — some yelling, some singing,
some fighting, some breaking glass and crockery, some
laying the dust with the liquor they couldn't drink, some
ringing the bells till they pulled them down, others beat-
ing them with pokers till they beat them Into fragments \
more men still more, more, more — swarmitig on like
insects ; noise, smoke, light, darkness, frolic, anger,
laughter, groans, plunder, fear, and ruin 1
Nearly all the time While John looked on at this he-
wildering scene, Hugh kept hear him i and though he
was the loudest, wildest, mOst destructive villain there,
he saved his old master's bones a Score of times. Nay,
evCti when Mr Tappertit, excited byj liquor, came up,
300
BABNABY BUDGE.
and in assertion of his prerogative politely kicked John
Willet on the shins, Hugh bade him return the compli-
ment; and if old John had had sufficient presence of
mind to understand this whispered direction, and to profit
by it, he might no doubt, under Hugh's protection, have
done so with impunity. , | j
At length the band began to reassemble outside the
house, and to call to those within, to join them, for
they were losing time. These murmurs increasing, and
attaining a high pitch, Hugh, and some of those who yet
lingered in the bar, and who plainly were the leaders of
the troop, took counsel together, apart, as to what was to
be done with John, to keep him quiet until their Chig-
well work was over. Some proposed to set the house
on fire and leave him in it; others, that he should be
reduced to a state of temporary insensibility, by knock-
ing on the head; others, that he should be sworn to sit
where he was until to-morrow at the same hour; others
again, that he should be gagged and taken off with them,
under a sufficient guard. All these propositions being
overruled, it was concluded, at last, to bind him in his
chair, and the word was passed for Dennis.
" Look'ee here, Jack I," said Hugh, striding up to him:
" We're going to tie you, hand and foot, but otherwise
you won't be hurt. D'ye hear?"
John Willet looked at another man, as if he didn't
know which was the speaker,; and muttered something
about an ordinary every Sunday at two o'clock.
" You won't be hurt I tell you, Jack — do you hear
me ? " roared Hugh, impressing the assurance upon him
by means of a heavy blow on the back. " He's so dead
scared, he's wool-gathering, I think. Give him a drop
of something to drink here. Hand over, one of you."
BARNABY RUDGE.
301
' A glass of liquor being passed forward, Hugh poured
the contents down old John's throat. Mr. Willet feebly
smacked his lips, thrust his hand into his pocket, and
inquired what was to pay ; adding, as he looked vacant-
ly round, that he believed there was a trifle of broken
glass —* • tH . w , A u
u f He's out of his senses for the time, it's my belief,"5
said Hugh, after shaking him, without any visible effeo
upon his system, until his keys rattled in his pocket
Where's that Dennis?";,.! .. ' - "•
! i The word was again passed, and presently Mr. Dennis
with a long cord bound about his middle, something after
the manner of a friar, came hurrying in, attended by a
body-guard of half a dozen of his men. i
" Come 1 Be alive here !" cried Hugh, stamping his
foot upon the ground. " Make haste ! "
1 Dennis, with a wink and a nod, unwound the cord
from about his person, and raising his eyes to the ceiling,
looked all over it, and round the walls and cornice, with
a curious eye ; . then shook his head. ''■■■■ i- ..
v "Move man, can't you!" cried Hugh, with another
impatient stamp of his foot. " Are we to wait here, till
the cry has gone for ten miles round, and our work's in-
terrupted ? " • . ..i, . .. u - i . , <1
, " It's all very fine talking, brother," answered Dennis,
stepping towards him;"*" but unless"-—and here he
whispered in his ear — " unless we do it over the door,
it can't be done at all in this here room." 1 < j.
■." What can't ? " Hugh demanded. . .... . «
„ i" What can't! " retorted Dennis. " Why. the old
man can't." - ;j 4- »
Why, you weren't going to hang him !" cried
Hugh, ij . i ' > * •. ■ ' t *
302
BABNABT RUDGE.
. * No, brother ? " returned the hangman, with * stare.
" What else ?" >. ■ !. t •!
I Hugh made no answer, but snatching the rope from
his companion's hand, proceeded bo bind old John him-
•elf; but his very drat move was so bungling and
unskilful, that Mr. Dennis entreated, almost with teara
in hia eyes, that he. might be permitted to perform
the duty. Hugh consenting, he achieved it in a twin-
kliog. j * - ■ -i ■ i» 'i 'i
" There !" he said, looking mournfully at John Wilder,
who displayed no more emotion in his bonds than he had
shown out of them. " That's what I call pretty, and
workmanlike. He's quite a picter now. But, brother,
just a word with, you — now that he's ready trussed, as
one may say, wouldn't it be better for all parties if we
was to work him off? It would read uncommon well in
the newspapers, it would indeed. The public weuld
think a great deal more on us!" i • • i «b &
Hugh, inferring what his companion meant, rather
from his gestures than his technical mode of expressing
himself (to which, as he was ignorant of his colling, he
wanted the clew), rejected this proposition for the second
time, and gave the word " Forward L'l which was echoed
by a hundred voices from without.
the Warren l" shouted Dennis as he ran
out, followed by the rest. "A witness's house, my
lads!"', i-j . . . > u • — . i. in i . *4i
A loud yell followed, and the whole throng hurried off,
mad for pillage and destruction. .Hugh lingered behind
for a few moments to stimulate himself with more drink,
and to set all the taps running, a few of which had aeci-
dentally been spared; then, glancing round the despoiled
and plundered room, through whose shattered window
BARNABY BUDGE.
803
the rioters had thrust the Maypole itself, — for even
that had been sawn down, — lighted a torch, clapped
the mute and motionless John Willet on the back,
and waving his light above his head, and uttering a
fierce shout, hastened after his companions.
901
BARNABT RUDQK.
If
I-' v 'I
ji
r "
a " f
T Ti I
•f T ' f ti • I J .
CHAPTER LV.
John Willet, left alone in his dismantled ba., con-
tinued to sit 6taring about him; awake as to his eyes,
certainly, but with all his powers of reason and reflection
in a sound and dreamless sleep. He looked round upon
the room which had been for years, and was within an
hour ago, the pride of his heart; and not a muscle of his
face was moved. The night, without, looked black and
cold through the dreary gaps in the casement; the pre-
cious liquids, now nearly leaked away, dripped with a
hollow sound upon the floor; the Maypole peered rue-
fully in through the broken window, like the bowsprit of
a wrecked ship; the ground might have been the bottom
of the sea, it was so strewn with precious fragments.
Currents of air rushed in, as the old doors jarred and
creaked upon their hinges; the candles flickered and
guttered down, and made long winding-sheets; the
cheery deep-red curtains flapped and fluttered idly in
the wind; even the stout Dutch kegs, overthrown and
lying empty in dark corners, seemed the mere husks
of good fellows whose jollity had departed, and who
could kindle with a friendly glow no more. John saw
this desolation, and yet saw it not. He was perfectly
contented to sit there, staring at it, and felt no more
indignation or discomfort in his bonds than if they had
been robes of honor. So far as he was personally con-
Derned, old Time lay snoring, and the world stood still.
BARNABY RUDGB.
305
Save for the dripping from the barrels, thfi rustling of
such light fragments of destruction as the wind affected,
and the dull creaking of the open doors, all was pro-
foundly quiet: indeed, these sounds, like the ticking of
the death-watch in the night, only made the silence they
invaded deeper and more apparent. But quiet or noisy,
it was all one to John. If a train of heavy artillery
could have come up and commenced ball practice outside
the window, it would have been all the same to him.
He was a long way beyond surprise.; A ghost couldn't
have overtaken him. •• , i ■ . i •
By and by he heard a footstep — a hurried, and yet
cautious footstep — coming on towards the house. It
stopped, advanced again, then seemed to go quite round
it., Having done that, it came beneath the window, and
a head looked in. , _ ; • , !,!„ r
, It was strongly relieved against the darkness outside
by the glare of the guttering candies. A- pale, worn,
withered face; the eyes—but that was owing lb its
gaunti condition *— unnaturally large and bright; the
hair, a grizzled black. It gave a searching glance all
round the room, and a deep voice said:—,, •
" Are you alone in this house ?." T ti > 1 <
John made no sign, though the question was repeated
twice, and he heard it distinctly. After a moment's
pause, the man got in at;the window. John was not
at all surprised at this, either. There had been so much I
getting in and opt of window in the course of the last
hour or so, that he had quite forgotten the door, and
seemed to have lived among such exercises from in-
fancy. , '
The man wore a large, dark, faded cloak, and a
slouched hat; he walked up close to John, and looked
vol.. n. 20
306
SAfiSABY AtfijGE.
at him. John returned the compliment v^ith inter-
eat. h ' n
" Hpw long hare yon been sitting thus ? " said thfi
iham
John considered, bttt nothing CAme of if. ''
" Which way have the party gone? " J ' •
Some Wandering spefcu'latiOns relative td the fashion
of the stranger's boots; get into Mri WTIlet's mind by
some afccident or Other, but they got chit again Ifi a huffy,
and left bim in his former state. T.' * *
"You would do well to speak," sdid the marl: "yod
may keep a whole skin, though you hate bothiiig else
10ft that can be hart. Which Way hate the party
gonefo' m * ' u-i - i-i'i -T--J h. , «
f '" That!" said John, finding his Voice all at oticfe*, and
nodding with perfect good faith — he couldh't point; he
Wan so tightly bOuttd — in' exafetly the opposite direction
to the right ohe. » '• n"* 1 '
'"You lie! "said the mah angrily, add With A thtfeat-
erting gesture. "I came that Wayi You Would betray
inc."'»"«v 1,1 "**''% '' 1 '' " f
It was so evident that John'k imperturbability wis hot
assumed, but was the restilt tif tfite late! pfoeefedings un-
der his robf* that the man stayed Ms hand in the very
adt Of striking Him, and ttihned awAy: ' ' 1
John looked after hitb without sotnuch As a twitch 5h
4 ringle nerve of his fate. He Seized a glass, bind hold-
ftig' it lihder one of this little easkS uhtil' a few drops wOre
Collected, drank' thetn gfedflily biff'theft throwing ft
down Oport the fletor impatiently, he took the Vessel In
his hands and drained it into his throat. Some scraps
of bread and meat wefe scattered abotitj' and on these
he fell best; eating them With voracity, and pausing
WW 3d?
every now and then ,tp; ljaten fer. some fancied npiae
outside. When be had refreshed himself ip. tips man-
ner with violent haste, and Raised another barrel, to his
lips, he pulled his hat upon his brew as though he, were
about to leave the house, pud tuppd. tojohp, , „
" Where are your servants ? " , t
o. Mr- WiHet indistinctly remembered tp bftvp beard the
liters calling to them tp the.key of the rpom in
Which they were, opt of window,, fer their keeping. He
therefore replied " Locked pp." , , ,4 |ns
" Well for them if they remain quiet,, end. well for you
K jop dq the like^" said tRpafc "Nov shftW me the
way the party wept:," , ,, v t>
Thus time Mr, Willet indicated ft correctly, The man
Was hurrying to, the door, when suddenly thgjp came
towards thepa on the wind, the loud and rapid, tolling
of an alarm-bell, and then a bright and ?ivid glare
Streamed op, which illumined, upt only the whole phftBS-
her, but all the country. „ d
It was not the sudden change from darkness tfl this
dreadful light, it was not the sound of distant shrieks
pnd shouts, of triumph, it was not this d^od WW?.#
the serenity and peace of night, that drove the man bank
as though a thunderbolt had struck htm- „tt Wfts the
Belh If the ghastljest shape the human mind has 0X8?
pictured ip its, wildest dreams had risenup before him,
could not have staggered backward frpp) its toucb, as
be did from the first sopnd of that loud iron yope, With
eyes that started from his head, bis hmbs copvulsed, his
face most horrible to see, be raised one arm high up inm
the air> and holding something visionary, back and down,
with his other hand, drove at it as though he held a knife
and stabbed it to. the heart. He clutched his hajr, and
308
BABNABY rudge.
stopped his ears, and travelled madly round and round;
then gave a frightful cry, and with it rushed away: still,
still, the Bell tolled on and seemed to follow him —
louder and louder, hotter and hotter yet. The glare
grew brighter, the roar of voices deeper; the crash of
heavy bodies falling, shook the air; bright streams of
sparks rose up into the sky; but louder than them all
— rising faster far,, to Heaven —a million times more
fierce and furious — pouring forth dreadful secrets after
its long silence — speaking the language of the dead —
the Bell — the Bell!. - :
What hunt of spectres could surpass that dread pur-
suit and flight! Had there been a legion of them on
his track, he. could have better borne it. They would
have had a beginning and an end, but here all space
was full. The one pursuing voice was everywhere: it
sounded in the earth, the air; shook the long grass,
and howled among the trembling trees. The echoes
caught it up, the owls hooted as it flew upon the breeze,
the nightingale was silent and hid herself among the
thickest boughs: it seemed to goad and urge the angry
fire, and lash it into madness ; everything was steeped in
one prevailing red; the glow was everywhere; nature
was drenched in blood: still the remorseless crying of
that awful voice — the Bell, the Bell!
It ceased ; but not in his ears. The knell was at his
heart. No work of man had ever voice like that which
sounded there, and warned him that it cried unceasingly
to Heaven. Who could hear that bell, and not know
what it said ! There was murder in every note — cruel,
relentless, savage murder — the murder of a confiding
man, by one who held his every trust. Its ringing sum-
moned phantoms from their graves. What face was that,
BARNABY BUDGE.
309
in which a friendly smile changed to a look of half in-
credulous horror, which stiffened for a moment into one
of pain, then changed again into an imploring glance at
Heaven, and so fell idly down with upturned eyes, like
the dead stags he had often peeped at when a little
child: shrinking and shuddering-—there was a dread-
ful thing to think of now! — and clinging to an apron
as he looked! He sank upon the ground, and grovelling
down as if he would dig himself a place to hide in, cov-
ered his face and ears: but no, no, no—-a hundred walls
and roofs of brass would not shut out that bell, for in it
spoke the wrathful voice of God, and from that voice,
the whole wide universe could not afford a refuge!
While he rushed up and down, not knowing where to
turn, and while he lay crouching there, the work went
briskly on indeed. When they left the Maypole, the
rioters formed into a solid body, and advanced at a
quick pace towards the Warren. Rumor of their ap-
proach having gone before, they found the garden doors
fast closed, the windows made secure, and the house pro-
foundly dark : not a light being visible in any portion of
the building. After some fruitless ringing at the bells,
and beating at the iron gates, they drew off a few paces
to reconnoitre, and confer upon the course it would be
best to take. » .. . . • u. I.
Very little conference was needed, when all were bent
upon one desperate purpose, infuriated with liqUor, and
Hushed with successful riot. The word being given to
surround the house, some climbed the gates, or dropped
into the shallow trench and scaled the garden wall, while
others pulled down the solid iron fence, and while they
made a breach to enter by, made deadly weapons of the
bars. The house being completely encircled, a small
210 RAJtNABY BUDGE.
number of men were despatched to break open a tool-
shed in the garden; and during their ahsence on this
errand, the remainder contented themselves with knock-
ing violently at the doors, and calling to those within, to
come down and open them on peril of their lives.
No answer being returned to this repeated summons,
and the detachment who had been sent away, coming
back with an accession of pickaxes, spades, and hoes,
they,— together with those who had such arms already,
or carried (as many did) axes, pedes, and crowbars, n-
straggled into the foremost rank, ready to beset the
doors and windows. They had not at this time more
than a dozen lighted torches among them; but when
these preparations were completed, darning links were
distributed and passed from hand to hand with such ra-
pidity, that, in a minute's time, at least two thirds of the
whole roaring mass, bore, each man in his hand, a blazr
ing brand. Whirling these about their heads they raised
a loud shout, and toll to work upon the doors and win-
dows. i • ' i .
Amidst the clattering of heavy bktws, the rattling of
broken glass, the cries and execrations of the mob, and
all the din and turmoil of the soene, Hugh and his
friends kept together at the turret door where Mr.
Haredale had last admitted him and old John Willet;
and spent their united force on that. It was a strong old
oaken dpor, guarded by good bolts and a heavy bar, but
it soon went crashing in upon the narrow stairs behind,
and made, as it were, a platform to facilitate their tear
ing up into the rooms above. Almost at the same mo-
ment, a dozen other points were forced, and at every one
the crowd poured in like water, i .
A few armed servant-men were posted in the hall,
bAMaBy fttrMK.
and when the rioters 1 forced fttt entrance there, the}
fired some half a dozen sbot9. But these takihg no
effect, and the concourse coming on like an arm} of
devils* they Only thought of consulting their own safety,
and retreated, echoing their assailants' cries, and hoping
in the confusion to be taken for rioters themselves J 'hl
which Stratagem they succeeded, with the exception of
one old man who Was neVer heard of again, ahd whs
said tb have had his braittS beaten otlt with An iron
bar (one of bis fellows reported that he had Seed the
old man fell), and' to have been afterwards burnt in
the flames. 1 f- > » •»" ' 1
The besiegers being now in complete possession of the
hOuSe, Spread tbemsfelves eVer it frorti garret to Cellar,
and plied' their demon labors fiercely; - While Some
small parties kindled bohfires underneath the WihdoWs,
Others broke up the furniture and cast the fragments
down to feed the flames below where the apertures in
the Wall (Windows ho longer) were large enough, 'they
thrteW out tables, chests of drawers, beds, mirrors, pie1
Hires, fend 'flung them whole into the fireWhile every
fresh addition to the biasing masses WaS received with
Shouts*''And hoWls, and yellS, Which added rieW and diS-
mai terrors to the conflagration. Those Who had axes
artd had Spent their fury on the movables, chopped and
tore down the doors and window-Frames, broke up the
flooring, hewed away the rafters and buried men who
lihgered in the upper rooms, in heaps Of ruins. Soma
searched the drawers, the chests, the boxes, Writidg-
desks, and closets, for jewels, plate, and mohey; While
otheTs, less mindful of gain arid more mad for destruc-
tion, bast their whole contents into the Court-yard with-
examination, and called to those beloW* to heap
812
BARNABY RUDGE.
them on the blaze. Men who had been into the cellars;
and had staved the casks, rushed to and fro stark mad,
setting fire to all they saw — often .to the dresses of
their own friends — and kindling the building in so
many parts that some had no time for escape, and
were seen, with drooping hands and blackened faces,
hanging senseless on the window-sills to which they-
had crawled, until they were sucked and drawn into
the,, burning gulf. The more the fire crackled and
raged, the wilder and more cruel the men grew; ast
though; moving in that element they became fiends, and
changed their earthly nature for the qualities that give
delight in hell. „ . t , ^ . p
The burning pile, revealing rooms and passages red-
hot, through gaps made in the crumbling walls; the
tributary fires that licked the outer bricks and stones,
with their long forked tongues, and ran up to meet the
glowing mass within; the shining of the flames upon
the villains who looked on and fed them; the roaring
of the angry blaze, so bright and high that it seemed
in its rapacity to have swallowed up the very smoke;
the living flakes the wind bore rapidly away and hur-
ried on with, like a storm of fiery snow; the noiseless
breaking of great beams of wood, which fell like feathers
on the heap of ashes, and crumbled in the very act to
sparks and powder; the lurid tinge that overspread the
sky, and the darkness, very deep by contrast, which
prevailed around ; the exposure to the coarse, common
gaze, of every little nook which usages of home had
made a sacred place, and the destruction by rude hands
of every little household favorite which old associations
made a dear and precious thing: all this taking place
7— not among pitying looks and friendly murmurs of
BARNABY RUDGK.
318
compasssion, but brutal shouts and exultations, which
seemed to make the very rats who stood by the old
house too long, creatures with some claim upon the pity
and regard of those its roof had sheltered i-—combined
to form a scene never to be forgotten by those who
saw it and were not actors in the work, so long as life
endured. , _ , , ,'| . , j -,t In ri.ve
-And who were they ? The alarm-bell rang— and it
was pulled by no faint or hesitating bands — for a long
time ; but not a soul was seen. Some of the insurgents
said that when it ceased, they heard the shrieks of
women, and saw some garments fluttering in the air,
as a party of men bore away no unresisting burdens.
No one could say that this wasi true cir false, in such an
uproar { but where was Hugh ?: Who among them had
seen him, since the forcing of the doors? The cry spread
through the body. Where was Hugh! -< i - u • > •
Here If' he hoarsely eried, appearing from the dark-
ness ; ,out of breath, and blackened with the smoke.
" We have done all we can ; the fire is burning itself
out; and even the corners where it hasn't spread, Are
nothing , but heaps of ruins. Disperse, my lads, while
the coast's clear; get back by different ways; and meet as
usual 1With that, he disappeared again, t— contrary
to his wont, for he was always first to advance, and last
to go away, -rr leaving them to follow homewards as
they would.f , • i >,s*m ''nr. ,tnv. I- «s#i
j jt was not an easy task to draw off such a throng
Xf Bedlam gates had been flung open wide, there would
not have issued forth such maniacs as the frenzy of that
night had made. There were men there who danced
and trampled cm the beds of flowers as though they
trod down human enemies, and wrenched them from the
814
BAftSABf ft!4 ftf.it
Stalks, like savages who twisted human neekS. ' Thew
Were men who cast theif lighted torches in the aiF, and
suffered them to fall upon their heads artd faces, bits-'
tering the skin with deep unseemly burns. TheFe were
men who rushed up to the fire, and paddled in it With
their hands as if in water; and others Who Were re-
strained by force from plunging in, to gratify their
deadly longing. On "the skhll of One drnnkeft lad —
not twenty* by bis looks «"» who Jay upon the ground
with a bottle to his mouth, the lead from the roof came
streaming down in a shower of liquid fire, White hot;
melting bis head like wax. When the 'scattered patties
were collected, men-^ living yet, but Staged as with hot
irons — were plucked out of the cellars, and Carried off
upon the shoulders of others, who strove ft> wake theni
as they went along, With ribald jokes, atid left them,
dead, in the passages of hospitals. 1 But of all the howl-
ing throng not one learnt mercy from, or sickened at,
these sights; new was the fierce, besotted, senseless rage
of one man glutted. " '' " ' '
Slowly, and in small clusters, with hoarse hurrahs
and repetitions of their Usual cry, the assembly dropped
away. The last few red-eyed stragglers reeled after
those who had gone before} the distant noise of inert
calling to each other, and whistling for others whom
they messed* grew fainter and fainter,' at length etert
these sounds died away, and silence reigned alone. '
Silence indeed 1 The glare of the flames had sUtak
into a fitful flashing Kght j and the gentle stars, Invisible
till how, looked down upon the blackening heap. A dull
smoke hurtg upon the ruin, as though to hide it from
those eyes of Heaven; and the wind forebore to move
it. Bare walls, roof open to the sky chambers, where
BARNABY BUDGE.
315
the beloved dead had, many and many a fair day, risen
to new life and energy; where so many dear ones had
been sad and merry; which were connected with so
many thoughts and hopes, regrets and changes — all
gone. Nothing left but a dull and dreary blank — a
smouldering heap of dust and ashes — the silence and
solitude of utter desolation.
BARNABY RUDGE.
A TALE OF THE RIOTS OF "EIGHTY.
VOLUME HI.
BARNABY RUDGE
■ ■■ ■ i ' '
' i.
.1 1 CHAPTER LYI.
■ • i i -
The Maypole cronies, little dreaming of the change
so soon to pome upon their favorite haunt, struck through
the Forest path upon their way to London; and avoid-
iflg the main road, which was hot and dusty, kept to the
hy-paths and the fields. As they drew nearer to their
destination, they hegan to make inquiries of the people
whom they passed, concerning the riots, and the truth
or falsehood of the stories they had heard. The answers
went far beyond any intelligence that had spread to quiet
Chigwell. One man told them that that afternoon the
Guards, conveying to Newgate some rioters who had
been reexamined, had been set upon by the mob and
compelled to retreat; another, that the houses of two
witnesses near Clare Market were about to be pulled
down when he came away ; another, that Sir George
Saville's house in Leicester Fields was to be burned
that night, and that 'it would go hard with Sir George
if he fell into the people's hands, as it was he who had
brought in the Catholic bjll. All accounts agreed that
the mob were out, in stronger numbers and more nu-
merous parties than had yet appeared; that the streets
were unsafe; that no man's house or life was worth an
6
BARNABY BUDGE.
hour's purchase; that the public consternation was in-
creasing every moment; and that many families had
already fled the city. One fellow who wore the popular
color, damned them for not having cockades in their
hats, and bade them set a good watch to-morrow night
upon the prison-doors, for the locks woutyl ijave a strain-
ing; another asked if they were fire-proof, that they
walked abroad without the distinguishing mark of all
good and true men ; and a third who rode on horseback,
and was quite alone, ordered!them to throw, each man
a shilling, in his hat, towards the support of the rioters.
Although they were afraid to refuse compliance with this
demand, and were much alarmed by these reports, they
agreed, having come so far, to go forward, and see- the
real state of things with their own eyes. So they pushed
on quicker, as men do who are excited by portentous
news; and ruminating on what they had heard, spoke
little to each other.
It was now night, and as they came nearer to the city,
they had dismal confirmation of this intelligence in three
great fires, all close together, which burnt fiercely and
were gloomily reflected in the sky. Arriving in the im-
mediate suburbs, tbey found that almost every house had
chalked upon its door in large characters " No Popery,"
that the shops were shut, and that alarm and anxiety
were depicted in every face they passed. <
Noting these things with a degree of apprehension
which neither of the three cared to impart, in its full
extent, to his companions, they came to a turnpike gate,
which was shut„ They were passing through the turn-
Stile on the path, when a horseman rode up from London
at a hard gallop, and called to the toll-keeper in a voice
of great agitation, to open quickly in the name of God.
BARNABY RCDGE.
7
The adjuration was so earnest, and vehement, that the
man, with the lantern in his hand, came running out —
toll-keeper though he was — and was about to throw the
gate open, when happening to look behind him, he ex-
claimed, " Good Heaven, what's that! Another fire ! "
At this, the three turned their heads, and saw in the
distance — straight in the direction whence they had
come — a broad sheet of flame, casting a threatening
light upon the clouds, which glimmered as though the
conflagration were behind them, and showed like a
wrathful sunset. ' — 1
" My mind misgives me," said the horseman, " or I
know from what far building those flames come. Don't
stand aghast, my good fellow. Open the gate !"
" Sir," cried the man, laying his hand upon his horse's
bridle as he let him through : " I know you now, sir ; be
advised by me; do not go on. I saw them pass, and
know what kind of men they are. You will be mur-
dered."
" So be it! " said the horseman, looking intently tow-
ards the fire, and not at him who spoke. • 1
" But sir — sir," cried the man, grasping at his rein
more tightly yet, " if you do go on, wear the blue ribbon.
Here, sir," he added, taking one from his own hat, " it's
necessity, not choice, that makes me wear it: it's love
of life and home, sir. Wear it for this one night, sir 5
only- for this one night." - ' •' •1
" Do!" cried the three friends, pressing round his
norse. " Mr. Haredale — worthy sir — good gentleman
— pray be persuaded."
• " Who's that ? " cried Mr. Haredale, stooping down to
look. " Did I hear Daisy's voice ?' 1
j" You did, sir," cried the little man. " Do be per-
PAR^AhY HUPOE.
spaded, sir. This gentleman says very true. Your life
may hang upon it," §
f Are you," said Mr. Haredale, abruptly, «afraid to
cqme with me?" ' <
*'I,sir?—• JS-n-no,"
* Put that ribbon in your hat If we meet the rioters,
swear that I took you prisoner for wearing it I will
tell them so with my owe lips; for as I hope for mercy
when I die, I will take no quarter from them, nor shall
they have quarter from me, if we come hand to hand
to-night. Up here — behind me — quick! Clasp me
tight round the body, and fear nothing." • •
I» an instant they were riding away, at full gallop, in
a dense cloud of dust, and speeding on, like hunters in a
dream.
It was well the good horse knew the road he trav-
ersed, for never once t— no, never once in all the jour,
ney -r- did Mr. Haredale cast his eyes upon the ground,
or turn them, for an instant, from the light towards whieh
they sped so madly. Once he said in a low voice It it
my house," but that was the only time he spoke. When
they came to dark and doubtful places, be never forgot
to put his hand upon the little man to hold him more
securely ip bis sept, but be kept his head erect and his
eyes fixed on the fire, then, and always.
The road was dangerous enough, for they went the
nearest way — headlong, — far from the highway — by
lonely Janes and paths, where wagon-wheels had worn
deep ruts; where hedge and ditch hemmed in the narrow
strip of ground ; and tall trees, arching overhead, mgde
it profoundly dark. But on, on, on, with neither . stop
nor stumble, till they reached the Maypole door, and
could plainly see that the fire began to fade, as if for
want of fuel.
BhttKAfcY BUDGE.
9
" Down — for one moment — for but one moment,"
said Mr. Haredale, helping Daisy to the ground, and
following himself. " Willet — Willet —- where are my
niece and servants — Willet!" ■ n
Crying to him distractedly, he rushed into the bar. —
The landlord bound and fastened to his chair ; the place
dismantled, stripped, and pulled about his ears; ■»*- no«-
body could have taken shelter here. '
He tvas a strong man, accustomed to restrain himself,
and suppress his strong emotions; but this preparation
for what was to follow — though he had seen that fire
burning, and knew that his house must be razed to the
ground — was more than he could bear. He covered
his face with his hands for a moment, and turned away
his head. ' & ! f '•
"Johnny, Johnny," said Solomon — and the simple-
hearted fellow cried outright, and wrung his hands .—
" Oh dear old Johnny, here's a change ! That the May-
pole bar should come to this, and we should live to see
it! I The old Warren too, Johnnys— Mr. Haredale-—-
Oh, Johnny, what a piteous sight this is!"
Pointing to Mr. Haredale as he said these words,
tittle Solomon Daisy put his elbows on thte back of Mr.
Willet's chair, and fairly blubbered on bis shoulder.
While Solomon was Speaking, Old John sat, mute as
a stock-fish, staring at him with an unearthly glare, and
displaying, by every possible symptom, entire and torn-
plete ■oncorisciousnesS. But when Solomon was 'silbnt
again, John followed, with his great round eyes, the di-
rection of his looks, and did appear to have some dawn-
ing distant notion that somebody had come1 to See him.
" Yon know us, don't you, Johnny ?" said the little
Clerk, rapping himself on the breast. « Daisy, you know
10
BARNABY RUDGE.
—♦ Chigwell Church — bell-ringer — little desk on Sun-
days — eh, Johnny ? " »
Mr. Willet reflected for a few moments, sjid then
muttered, as it were mechanically : " Let us sing to the
praise and glory of"—
"Yes, to be sure," cried the little man, hastily ; "that's
it — that's me, Johnny. You're all right now, a'n't you ?
Say you're all right, Johnny."
All right?" pondered Mr. Willet, as if that were a
matter entirely between himself and his conscience. "All
right? Ah!"
" They haven't been misusing you with sticks, or
pokers, or any other blunt instruments, — have they,
Johnny ? " asked Solomon, with a very anxious glance
at Mr. Willet's head. "They didn't beat you, did
they ? " '
John knitted his brow; looked downwards, as if he
were mentally engaged in some arithmetical calculation;
then upwards, as if the total would not come at his call;
then at Solomon Daisy, from his eyebrow to his shoe-
buckle ; then very slowly round the bar. And then a
great, round, leaden-looking, and not at all transparent
tear, came rolling out of each eye, and he said, as he
shook his head: —
" If they'd only had the goodness to murder me, I'd
have thanked 'em kindly."
" No, no, no, don't say that, Johnny," whimpered his
little friend. " It's very, very bad, but not quite so bad
as that. No, no ! "
" Look'ee here, sir!" cried John, turning his rueful
eyes on Mr. Haredale, who had dropped on one knee,
and was hastily beginning to untie his bonds. " Look'ee
here, sir ! The very Maypole — the old dumb Maypole
BARNABY RUDGE.
11
— stares in at the winder, as if it said, 'John Willet,
John Willet, let's go and pitch ourselves in the nighest
pool of water as is deep enough to hold us ; for our day
is over!'"
" Don't, Johnny, don't," cried his friend: no less af-
fected by this mournful effort of Mr. Willet's imagina-
tion, than by the sepulchral tone in which he had spoken
for the Maypole. " Please don't, Johnny !"
"Your loss is great, and your misfortune a heavy
or.e," said Mr. Haredale, looking restlessly towards the
dcor: "and this is not a time to comfort you. If it
were, I am in no condition to do so. Before I leave
you, tell me one thing, and try to tell me plainly, I im-
plore you. Have you seen, or heard of Emma?"
"Nd!" said Mr. Willet.
" Nor any one but these blood-hounds ? "
"No!"
" They rode away, I trust in Heaven, before these
dreadful scenes began," said Mr. Haredale, who, between
his agitation, his eagerness to mount his horse again,
and the dexterity with which the cords were tied, had
scarcely yet undone one knot. "A knife, Daisy!"
"You didn't," said John, looking about, as though he
had lost his pocket-handkerchief or some such slight ar-
tide —"either of you, gentlemen — see a—-a coffin
anywheres, did you ? "
" Willet!" cried Mr. Haredale. Solomon dropped
the knife, and instantly becoming limp from head to
foot, exclaimed " Good gracious !"
—" Because," said John, not at all regarding them,
'• a dead man called a little time ago, on his way yonder.
I could have told you what name was on the plate, if he
had brought his coffin with him, and left it behind. If
he didn't, it don't signify."
12
BARNABY RUPGE.
His landlord, who had listened to these words with
breathless attention, started that moment to his feet;
and, without a word, drew Solomon Daisy to the door,
mounted his horse, took him up behind again, and flew
rather than galloped towards the pile of ruins, which
that day's sun had shone upon, a stately house. Mr.
Willet stared after them, listened, looked down upon
himself to make quite sure that he was still unbound,
and, without any manifestation of impatience, disap-
pointment, or surprise, gently relapsed into the con-
dition from which he had so imperfectly recovered.
Mr. Haredale tied his horse to the trunk of a tree,
and grasping his companion's arm, stole softly along the
footpath, and into what had been the garden of his house.
He stopped for an instant to look upon its smoking walls,
and at the stars that shone through roof and floor upon
the heap of crumbling ashes. Solomon glanced timidly
in his face, but his lips were tightly pressed together, a
resolute and stern expression sat upon his brow, and not
a tear, a look, or gesture indicating grief, escaped him.
He drew his sword; felt for a moment in his breast,
as though he carried other arms about him; then grasp-
ing Solomon by the wrist again, went with a cautious
step all round the house. He looked into every door-
way and gap in the wall; retraced his steps at every
rustling of the air among the leaves; and searched in
every shadowed nook with outstretched hands. Thus
they made the circuit of the building: but they returned
to the spot from which they had set out, without encoun-
tering any human being, or finding the least trace of any
concealed straggler.
After a short pause, Mr. Haredale shouted twice or
thrice. Then cried aloud, " Is there any one in hiding
BARNABY RUDGE.
13
here, who knows my voice ! There is nothing to fear
now. If any of my people are here, I entreat them to
answer!" He called them all by name ; hii voice was
echoed in many mournful tones; then all was silent
as before. 1
* They were standing near the foot of the turret, where
the alarm-bell hung. The fire had raged there, and the
floors had been sawn, and hewn, and beaten down, be-
sides. It was open to the night; but a part of the stair-
case still remained, winding upward from a great mound
of dust and cinders. Fragments of the jagged and
broken steps offered an insecure and giddy footing here
and there, and then were lost again, behind protruding
angles of the wall, or in the deep shadows cast upon it
by other portions of the ruin; for by this time the moon
had risen, and shone brightly.
As they stood here, listening to the echoes as they
died away, and hoping in vain to hear a voice they
knew, some of the ashes in this turret slipped and rolled
down. Startled by the least noise in that melancholy
place, Solomon looked up at his companion's face, and
saw that he had turned towards the spot, and that he
watched and listened keenly.
He covered the little man's mouth with his hand, and
looked again. Instantly, with kindling eyes, he bade
him on his life keep still, and neirtier speak nor move.
Then holding his breath, and Stooping down, he stole
into the turret, with his drawn sword in his hand, and
disappeared. • 1 * 1,1 '
Terrified to be left there by himself, under such deso-
late circumstances, and after all he had seen and heard
that night, Solomon would have follpwec}, hut there had
been something in Mr. Hare dale's manner and his look,
14 BAKNABY BUDGE.
the recollection of which held him spellbound. He
stood rooted to the spot; and scarcely venturing to
breathe, looked up with mingled fear and wonder.
Again the ashes slipped and rolled — very, very softly
— again — and then again, as though they crumbled
underneath the tread of a stealthy foot. And now a
figure was dimly visible; climbing very softly j and
often stopping' to look down; now it pursued its diffi-
cult way; and now it was hidden from the view again.
It emerged once more, into the shadowy and uncertain
light — higher now, but not much, for the way was steep
and toilsome, and its progress very slow. What phantom
of the brain did he pursue; and why did he look down
so constantly. He knew he was alone ? Surely his
mind was not affected by that night's loss and agony.
He was not about to throw himself headlong from the
summit of the tottering wall. Solomon turned sick, and
clasped his hands. His limbs trembled beneath him, and
a cold sweat broke out upon his pallid face.
If he complied with Mr. Haredale's last injunction
now, it was because he had not the power to speak or
move. He strained his gaze, and fixed it on a patch of
moonlight, into which, if he continued to ascend, he must
soon emerge. When he appeared there, he would try to
caU to him.
Again the ashes flipped and crumbled; some stones
rolled down, and fell with a dull, heavy sound upon the
ground below. He kept his eyes upon the piece of
moonlight. The figure was coining on, for its shadow
was already thrown upon the wall. Now it appeared
— and now looked round at him — and now —
The horror-stricken clerk uttered a scream that pierced
the air, and cried " The ghost! The ghost!"
BARNABY KUDGF..
15
Long before the echo of his cry had died away, an-
other form rushed out into the light, flung itself upon the
foremost one, knelt down upon its breast, and clutched its
throat with both hands.
" Villain ! " cried Mr. Haredale, in a terrible voice —
for it was he. " Dead and buried, as all men supposed
through your infernal arts, but reserved by Heaven for
this — at last — at last — I have you. You, whose
hands are red with my brother's blood, and that of his
faithful servant, shed to conceal your own atrocious guilt
— You, Rudge, double murderer and monster, I arrest
you in the name of God, who has delivered you into my
hands. No. Though you had the strength of twenty
men," he added, as the murderer writhed and strug-
gled, "you could not escape me, or loosen my grasp
to-night!"
16 BAKN.YBY BUDGE.
J 4 -L f
.»p.Ur » . * * *
CHAPTER LVII. - "
Barnaby, armed as we have seen, continued to pace
up and down before the stable-door; glad to be alone
again, and heartily rejoicing in the unaccustomed silence
and tranquillity. After the whirl of noise and riot in
which the last two days had been passed, the pleasures
of solitude and peace were enhanced a thousand-fold.
He felt quite happy ; and as he leaned upon his staff
and mused, a bright smile overspread his face, and none
but cheerful visions floated into his brain. *
Had he no thoughts of her, whose sole delight he was,
and whom he had unconsciously plunged in such bitter
sorrow and such deep affliction ? Oh yes. She was at
the heart of all his cheerful hopes and proud reflections.
It was she whom all this honor and distinction were to
gladden ; the joy and profit were for her. What delight
it gave her to hear of the bravery of her poor boy ! Ah!
He would have known that, without Hugh's telling him.
And what a precious thing it was to know she lived so
happily, and heard with so much pride (he pictured to
himself her look when they told her) that he was in
such high esteem : bold among the boldest, and trusted
before them all. And when these frays were over, and
the good lord had conquered his enemies, and they were
all at peace again, and he and she were rich, what happi-
aess they would have in talking of these troubled times
when he was a great soldier: and when they sat alone
BARNABY RUDGE.
17
together in the tranquil twilight, and she had no longer
reason to be anxious for the morrow, what pleasure
would he have in the reflection that this was his tloing
— his — poor foolish Barnaby's ; and in patting her on
the cheek, and saying with a merry laugh, " Am I silly
now, mother — am I silly now ? "
With a lighter heart and step, and eyes the brighter
for the happy tear that dimmed them for a moment,
Barnaby resumed his walk; and singing gayly to him-
self, kept guard upon his quiet post.
His comrade Grip, the partner of his watch, though
fond of basking in the sunshine, preferred to-day to walk
about the stable ; having a great deal to do in the way
of scattering the straw, hiding under it such small ar-
tides as had been casually left about, and haunting
Hugh's bed, to which he seemed to have taken a par-
ticular attachment. Sometimes Barnaby looked in and
called him, and then he came hopping out; but he
merely did this as a concession to his master's weak-
ness, and soon returned again to his own grave pur-
suits: peering into the straw with his bill, and rapidly
covering up the place, as if, Midas-like, he were whis-
pering secrets to the earth and burying them ; constantly
busying himself upon the sly 5 and affecting, whenever
Barnaby came past, to look up in the clouds and have
nothing whatever on his mind : in short, conducting him-
self, in many respects, in a more than usually thought-
fill, deep, and mysterious manner.
As the day crept on, Barnaby, who had 110 directions
forbidding him to eat and drink upon his post, but had
been, 011 the contrary, supplied with a bottle of beer
and a basket of provisions, determined to break his fast,
which he had not done since morning. To this end,
vol. 111. 1
18
BARNABY RUDOrE.
he sat down on the ground before the door, and put-
ting his staff across his knees in case of alarm or sur-
prise, summoned Grip to dinner.
This call, the bird obeyed with great alacrity ; cry-
ing, as he sidled up to his master, " I'm a devil, I'm
a Polly, I'm a kettle, I'm a Protestant, No Popery !"
Having learnt this latter sentiment from the gentry
among whom he had lived of late, he delivered it with
uncommon emphasis.
" Well said, Grip!" cried his master, as he fed him
with the daintiest bits. " Well said, old boy!"
" Never say die, bow wow wow, keep up your spirits,
Grip, Grip, Grip, Holloa! We'll all have tea, I'm a
Protestant kettle, No Popery!" cried the raven.
" Gordon forever, Grip ! " cried Barnaby.
The raven, placing his head upon the ground, looked
at his master sideways, as though he would have said,
" Say that again !" Perfectly understanding his desire,
Barnaby repeated the phrase a great many times. The
bird listened with profound attention ; sometimes repeat-
ing the popular cry in a low voice, as if to compare
the two, and try if it would at all help him to this
new accomplishment; sometimes flapping his wings, or
barking; and sometimes in a kind of desperation draw-
ing a multitude of corks, with extraordinary vicious-
ness.
Barnaby was so intent upon his favorite, that he was
not at first aware of the approach of two persons on
horseback, who were riding at a footpace, and coming
straight towards his post. When he perceived them,
however, which he did when they were within some fifty
yards of him, he jumped hastily up, and ordering Grip
within doors, stood with both hands on his staff", wait-
BARNABY RUDGE.
19
ing until he should know whether they were friends or
foes.
He had hardly done so, when he observed that those
who advanced were a gentleman and his servant; al-
most at the same moment he recognized Lord George
Gordon, before whom he stood uncovered, with his eyes
turned towards the ground.
" Good-day !" said Lord George, not reining in his
horse until he was close beside him. "Well!"
" All quiet, sir, all safe!" cried Barnaby. "The rest
are away — they went by that path — that one. A
grand party!"
" Ay ?" said Lord George, looking thoughtfully at
him. " And you ? "
" Oh ! They left me here to watch — to mount guard
— to keep everything secure till they come back. I'll
do it, sir, for your sake. You're a good gentleman ; a
kind gentleman — ay, you are. There are many against
you, but we'll be a match for them, never fear!"
" What's that ? " said Lord George — pointing to the
raven who was peeping out of the stable-door — but still
looking thoughtfully, and in some perplexity, it seemed,
at Barnaby.
" Why, don't you know ! " retorted Barnaby, with a
wondering laugh. "Not know what Ac is! A bird, to
be sure. My bird — my friend — Grip."
" A devil, a kettle, a Grip, a Polly, a Protestant, no
Popery ! " cried the raven.
1 Though, indeed," added Barnaby, laying his hand
upon the neck of Lord George's horse, and speaking
softly : " you had good reason to ask me what he io,
for sometimes it puzzles me — and I am used to him
— to think he's only a bird. He's my brother, Grip
20
BARNABY RUDGE.
is — always with me — always talking — always merry
— eh, Grip ? "
The raven answered by an affectionate croak, and
hopping on his master's arm, which he held downward
for that purpose, submitted with an air of perfect in-
difference to be fondled, and turned his restless, curious
eye, now upon Lord George, and now upon his man.
Lord George, biting his nails in a discomfited manner,
regarded Barnaby for some time in silence ; then beck-
oning to his servant, said: —
* " Come hither, John."
John Grueby touched his hat, and came.
" Have you ever seen this young man before ?" his
master asked, in a low voice.
" Twice, my lord," said John. " I see him in the
crowd last night and Saturday."
" Did — did it seem to you that his manner was at
all wild or strange ? " Lord George demanded, faltering.
"Mad," said John, with emphatic brevity.
" And why do you think him mad, sir ? " said his mas-
ter, speaking in a peevish tone. " Don't use that word
too freely. Why do you think him mad ? "
" My lord," John Grueby answered, " look at his dress,
look at his eyes, look at his restless way, hear him cry
' No Popery !' Mad, my lord."
" So because one man dresses unlike another," re-
turned his angry master, glancing at himself, "and
happens to differ from other men in his carriage and
manner, and to advocate a great cause which the cor-
rupt and irreligious desert, he is to be accounted mad.
is he ? "
" Stark, staring, raving, roaring mad, my lord," re
turned the unmoved John.
BABNABY BUDGE.
21
" Do you ;ay this to my face ? " cried his master, turn-
ing sharply upon him.
" To aty man, my lord, who asks me," answered
John.
" Mr. Gashford, I find, was right," said Lord George;
''I thought him prejudiced, though I ought to have
known a man like him better than to have supposed
it possible!"
" I shall never have Mr. Gashford's good word, my
lord," replied John, touching his hat respectfully, " and
I don't covet it."
" You are an ill-conditioned, most ungrateful fellow,"
said Lord George: "a spy, for anything I know. Mr.
Gashford is perfectly correct, a? J might have felt con-
vinced he was. I have done wrong to retain you in
my service. It is a tacit insult to him as my choice and
confidential friend to do so, remembering the cause you
sided with, on the day he was maligned at Westminster.
You will leave me to-night — nay, as soon as we reach
home. The sooner the better."
" If it comes to that, I say so too, my lord. Let
Mr. Gashford have his will. As to my being a spy,
my lord, you know me better than to believe it, I am
sure. I don't know much about causes. My cause is
the cause of one man against two hundred ; and I hope
it always will be." _ . . . _
" You have said quite enough," returned Lord George,
motioning him to go back. " I desire to hear no
more." .
" If you'll let me add another word, my lord," returned
John Grueby, " I'd give this silly fellow a caution not
to stay here by himself. The proclamation is in a good
many hands already, and it's well known that he was
22
BARNABY BUDGE.
concerned in the business it relates to. He had bettei
get to a place of safety if he can, poor creature."
" You hear what this man says ?" cried Lord George,
addressing Barnaby, who had looked on and wondered
while this dialogue passed. " He thinks you may be
afraid to remain upon your post, and are kept here per-
haps against your will. What do you say ? "
" I think, young man," said John, in explanation,
"that the soldiers may turn out and take you ; and that
if they do, you will certainly be hung by the neck till
you're dead — dead — dead. And I think you'd bet-
ter go from here, as fast as you can. That's what J
think."
" He's a coward, Grip, a coward !" cried Barnaby,
putting the raven on the ground, and shouldering his
staff. '• Let them come ! Gordon forever! Let them
come !"
" Ay !" said Lord George, " let them! Let us see
who will venture to attack a power like ours; the sol-
emn league of a whole people. This a madman ! You
have said well, very well. I am proud to be the leader
of such men as you."
Barnaby's heart swelled within his bosom as he heard
these words. He took Lord George's hand and carried
it to his lips; patted his horse's crest, as if the affection
and admiration he had conceived for the man extended
to the animal he rode; then unfurled his flag, 'and
proudly waving it, resumed his pacing up and down.
Lord George, with a kindling eye and glowing cheek,
took off his hat, and flourishing it above his head, bade
uim exultingly Farewell! — then cantered off at a brisk
pace; after glaneing angrily round to see that his ser-
vant followed. Honest John set spurs to his horse and
BARNABY RUDGE.
rode after his master, but not before he had again warned
Barnaby to retreat, with many significant gestures, which
indeed he continued to make, and Barnaby to resist, until
the windings of the road concealed them from each
other's view.
Left to himself again with a still higher sense of the
importance of his post, and stimulated to enthusiasm by
the special notice and encouragement of his leader, Bar-
naby walked to and fro in a delicious trance rather than
as a waking man. The sunshine which prevailed around
was in his mind. He had but one desire ungratified. If
she could only see him now !
The day wore on ; its heat was gently giving place to
the cool of evening; a light'wind sprung up, fanning
his long hair, and making the banner rustle pleasantly
above his head. There was a freedom and freshness in
the sound and in the time, which chimed exactly with
his mood. He was happier than ever.
He was leaning on his staff looking towards the de-
clining sun, and reflecting with a smile that he stood
sentinel at that moment over buried gold, when two or
three figures appeared in the distance, making towards
the house at a rapid pace, and motioning with their
hands as though they urged its inmates to retreat from
some approaching danger. As they drew nearer, they
became more earnest in their gestures; and they were
no sooner within hearing, than the foremost among them
cried that the soldiers were coming up.
At these words Barnaby furled his flag, and tied it
round the pole. His heart beat high while he did so,
but he had no more fear or thought of retreating than
the pole itself. The friendly stragglers hurried past
him, after giving him notice of his danger, and quickly
BARNABY RUDGE.
passed into the house, where the utmost confusion im-
mediately prevailed. As those within hastily closed the
windows and the doors, they urged him by looks and
signs to fly without loss of time, and called to him many
times to do so; but he only shook his head indignantly
in answer, and stood the firmer on his post. Finding
that he was not to be persuaded, they took care of them-
selves ; and leaving the place with only one old woman
in it, speedily withdrew.
As yet there had been no symptom of the news hav-
ing any better foundation than in the fears of those who
brought it, but The Boot had not been deserted five
minutes, when there appeared coming across the fields,
a body of men who, it was easy to see, by the glitter
of their arms and ornaments in the sun, and by their
orderly and regular mode of advancing — for they came
on as one man — were soldiers. In a very little time,
Barnaby knew that they were a strong detachment of
the Foot Guards, having along with them two gentlemen
in private clothes, and a small party of Horse; the latter
brought up the rear, and were not in number more than
six or eight.
They advanced steadily; neither quickening their
pace as they came nearer, nor raising any cry, nor
showing the least emotion or anxiety. Though this was
a matter of course in the case of regular troops, even
to Barnaby there was something particularly impressive
and disconcerting in it to one accustomed to the noise
and tumult of an undisciplined mob. For all that, he
stood his ground not a whit the less resolutely, and
looked on undismayed.
Presently, they marched into the yard, and halted,
The commanding officer despatched a messenger to the
BARNARY RUDGE.
25
horsemen, one of whom came riding back. Some words
passed between them, and they glanced at Barnaby,
who well remembered the man he had unhorsed at
Westminster, and saw him now before his eyes. The
man being speedily dismissed, saluted, and rode back
to his comrades, who were drawn up apart at a short
distance. '
The officer then gave the word to prime and load.
The heavy ringing of the musket-stocks upon the ground,
and the sharp and rapid rattling of the ramrods in their
barrels, were a kind of relief to Barnaby, deadly though
he knew the purport of such sounds to be. When this
was done, other commands were given, and the soldiers
instantaneously formed in single file all round the house
and stables; completely encircling them in every part,
at a distance, perhaps, of some half-dozen yards; at
least that seemed in Barnaby eyes to be about the
space left between himself and those who confronted
him. The horsemen remained drawn up by themselves
as before.
The two gentlemen in private clothes who had kept
aloof, now rode forward, one on either side the offi-
cer. The proclamation having been produced and
read by one of them, the officer called on Barnaby to
surrender.
He made no answer, but stepping within the door,
before which he had kept guard, held his pole cross
wise to protect it. In the midst of a profound silence
he was again called upon to yield.
Still he offered no reply. Indeed he had enough to
do, to run his eye backward and forward along the half-
dozen men who immediately fronted him, and settle hur-
riedly within himself at which of them he would strike
26
BARNABY RUDGE.
first, when they pressed on hira. He caught the eye of
one in the centre, and resolved to hew that fellow down,
though he died for it.
Again there was a dead silence, and again the same
voice called upon him to deliver himself up.
Next moment he was back in the stable, dealing
blows about him like a madman. Two of the men lay
stretched at his feet; the one he had marked, dropped
first — he had a thought for that, even in the hot blood
and hurry of the struggle. Another blow — another!
Down, mastered, wounded in the breast by a heavy
blow from the butt-end of a gun (he saw the weapon in
the act of falling) — breathless — and a prisoner.
An exclamation of surprise from the officer recalled
him, in some degree, to himself. He looked round,
Grip, after working in secret all the afternoon, and with
redoubled vigor while everybody's attention was dis-
traded, had plucked away the straw from Hugh's bed,
and turned up the loose ground with his iron bill.
The hole had been recklessly filled to the brim, and
was merely sprinkled with earth. Golden cups, spoons,
candlesticks, coined guineas — all the riches were re-
vealed.
They brought spades and a sack ; dug up everything
that was hidden there ; and carried away more than two
men could lift. They handcuffed him and bound his
arms, searched him, and took away all he had. No-
body questioned or reproached him, or seemed to have
much curiosity about him. The two men he had
stunned, were carried off by their companions in the
same business-like way in which everything else was
done. Finally, he was left under a guard of four sol-
iiers with fixed bayonets, while the officer directed in
BARNABY RUDGE.
27
person the search of the house and the other buildings
connected with it.
This was soon completed. The soldiers formed again
in the yard ; he was marched out, with his guard about
him; and ordered to fall in where a space was left.
The others closed up all round, and so they moved away,
with the prisoner in the centre.
When they came into the streets, he felt he was a
sight: and looking up as they passed quickly along,
could see people running to the windows a little too late,
and throwing up the sashes to look after him. Some-
times he met a staring face beyond the heads above him,
or under the arms of his conductors, or peering down
upon him from a wagon-top or coach-box; but this was
all he saw, being surrounded by so many men. The
very noises of the streets seemed muffled and subdued ;
and the air came stale and hot upon him, like the sickly
breath of an oven. >
Tramp, tramp. Tramp, tramp. Heads erect, shoul-
ders square, every man stepping in exact time — all so
orderly and regular — nobody looking at him — nobody
seeming conscious of his presence, — he could hardly
believe he was a Prisoner. But at the word, though
only thought, not spoken, he felt the handcuffs galling
his wrists, the cord pressing his arms to his sides: the
loaded guns levelled at his head ; and those cold, bright,
sharp, shining points turned towards him: the mere look-
ing down at which, now that he was bound and helpless,
made the warm current of his life run cold.
28
BARNABY RUDGE.
• I
CHAPTER LVIIL
They were not long in reaching the barracks, for the
officer who commanded the party was desirous to avoid
rousing the people by the display of military force in
the streets, and was humanely anxious to give as little
opportunity as possible for any attempt at rescue; know-
ing that it must lead to bloodshed and loss of life, and
that if the civil authorities by whom he was accompa-
nied, empowered him to order his men to fire, many in-
nocent persons would probably fall, whom curiosity or
idleness had attracted to the spot. He therefore led the
party briskly on, avoiding with a merciful prudence the
more public and crowded thoroughfares, and pursuing
those which he deemed least likely to be infested by dis-
orderly persons. This wise proceeding not only enabled
them to gain their quarters without any interruption, but
completely baffled a body of rioters who had assembled
in one of the main streets, through which it was consid-
ered certain they would pass, and who remained gath-
ered together for the purpose of releasing the prisoner
from their hands, long after they had deposited him in a
place of security, closed the barrack-gates, and set a
double guard at every entrance for its better protection.
Arrived at this place, poor Barnaby was marched into
a stone-floored room, where there was a very powerful
smell of tobacco, a strong thorough draft of air, and a
great wooden bedstead, large enough for a score of men.
BARNABY BUDGE.
29
Several soldiers in undress were lounging about, or eat-
ing from tin-cans; military accoutrements dangled on
rows of pegs along the whitewashed wall; and some
half-dozen men lay fast asleep upon their backs, snoring
in concert. After remaining here just long enough to
note these things, he was marched out again, and con-
veyed across the parade-ground to another portion of
the building.
Perhaps a man never sees so much at a glance as
when he is in a situation of extremity. The chances
are a hundred to one, that if Barnaby had lounged in at
the gate to look about him, he would have lounged out
again with a very imperfect idea of the place, and
would have remembered very little about it. But as he
was taken handcuffed across the gravelled area, nothing
escaped his notice. The dry,, arid look of the dusty
square, and of the bare brick building; the clothes hang-
ing at some of the windows; and the men in their shirt-
sleeves and braces, lolling with half their bodies out of
the others; the green sun-blinds at the officers' quarters,
and the little scanty trees in front; the drummer-boys
practising in a distant court-yard; the men on drill on
the parade ; the two soldiers carrying a basket between
them, who winked to each other as he went by, and
slyly pointed to their throats; the spruce Sergeant who
hurried past with a cane in his hand, and under his arm
a clasped book with a vellum cover; the fellows in the
ground-floor rooms, furbishing and brushing up their dif-
ferent articles of dress, who stopped to look at him, and
whose voices as they spoke together echoed loudly
through the empty galleries and passages ; — everything,
down to the stand of muskets before the guard-house,
and the drum with a pipe-clayed belt attached, in one
30
BARNABY RUDGE.
corner, impressed itself upon his observation, as though
he had noticed them in the same place a hundred times,
or had been a whole day among them, in place of one
brief hurried minute.
He was taken into a small paved back-yard, and thcie
they opened a great door, plated with iron, and pierced
some five feet above the ground with a few holes to let
in air and light. Into this dungeon he was walked
straightway ; and having locked him up there, and
placed a sentry over him, they left him to his medi-
tations.
The cell, or black-hole, for it had those words painted
on the door, was very dark, and having recently accom-
modated a drunken deserter, by no means clean. Bar-
naby felt his way to some straw at the farther end, and
looking towards the door, tried to accustom himself to
the gloom, which, coming from the bright sunshine out
of doors, was not an easy task.
There was a kind of portico or colonnade outside, and
this obstructed even the little light that at the best could
have found its way through the small apertures in the
door. The footsteps of the sentinel echoed monotonously
as he paced its stone pavement to and fro (reminding
Barnaby of the watch he had so lately kept himself) ;
and as he passed and repassed the door, he made the
cell for an instant so black by the interposition of his
body, that his going away again seemed like the appear-
ance of a new ray of light, and was quite a circumstance
to look for.
When the prisoner had sat some time upon the ground,
gazing at the chinks, and listening to the advancing and
receding footsteps of his guard, the man stood still upon
his post. Barnaby, quite unable to think, or to specu-
RAKNABY BUDGE.
31
late on what would be done with him, had been lulled
into a kind of doze by his regular pace ; but his stopping
roused him ; and then he became aware that two men
were in conversation under the colonnade, and very near
the door of his cell.
How long they had been talking there, he could not
tell, for he had fallen into an unconsciousness of his teal
position, and when the footsteps ceased, was answering
aloud some question which seemed to have been put to
him by Hugh in the stable, though of the fancied pur-
port, either of question or reply, notwithstanding that he
awoke with the latter on his lips, he had no recollection
whatever. The first words that reached his ears, were
these:
" Why is he brought here then, if he has to be taken
away again so soon ? "
" Why, where would you have him go ! Damme, he's
not as safe anywhere as among the king's troops, is he ?
What would you do with him ? Would you hand him
over to a pack of cowardly civilians, that shake in their
shoes till they wear the soles out, with trembling at the
threats of the ragamuffins he belongs to ? "
" That's true enough."
" True enough ! — I'll tell you what. I wish, Tom
Green, that I was a commissioned instead of a non-com-
missioned officer, and that I had the command of two
companies — only two companies —* of my own regi-
ment. Call me out to stop these riots — give me the
needful authority, and half a dozen rounds of ball-car-
tridge " —
" Ay ! " said the other voice. " That's all very well,
but they won't give the needful authority. If the magis-
trate won't give the word, what's the officer to do ? "
32
BAKNAI5Y BUDGE.
Not very well knowing, as it seemed, how to overcome
this difficulty, the other man contented himself with
damning the magistrates.
" With all my heart," said his friend.
" Where's the use of a magistrate ?" returned the
other voice. " What's a magistrate in this case, but an
impertinent, unnecessary, unconstitutional sort of inter-
ference ? Here's a proclamation. Here's a man re-
ferred to in that proclamation. Here's proof against
him, and a witness on the spot. Damme! Take him
out and shoot him, sir. Who wants a magistrate ? "
" When does he go before Sir John Fielding ? " asked
the man who had spoken first.
" To-night at eight o'clock," returned the other.
"Mark what follows. The magistrate commits him to
Newgate. Our people take him to Newgate. The riot-
ers pelt our people. Our people retire before the riot-
ers. Stones are thrown, insults are offered, not a shot's
fired. Why ? Because of the magistrates. Damn the
magistrates!"
When he had in some degree relieved his mind by
cursing the magistrates in various other forms of speech,
the man was silent, save for a low growling, still having
reference to those authorities, which from time to time
escaped him. „ .
Barnaby, who had wit enough to know that thi3 con-
versation concerned, and very nearly concerned, himself,
remained perfectly quiet until they ceased to speak,
when he groped his way to the door, and peeping
through the air-holes, tried to make out what kind of
men they were, to whom he had been listening.
The one who condemned the civil power in such
strong terms, was a sergeant — engaged just then, as the
BARNABY RUDGE.
33
streaming ribbons in his cap announced, on the recruit-
ing service. He stood leaning sideways against a pillar
nearly opposite the door, and as he growled to himself,
drew figures on the pavement with his cane. The other
man had his back towards the dungeon, and Barnaby
could only see his form. To judge from that, he was a
gallant, manly, handsome fellow, but he had lost his left
arm. It had been taken off between the elbow and the
shoulder, and his empty coat-sleeve hung across his
breast.
It was probably this circumstance which gave him an
interest beyond any that his companion could boast of,
and attracted Barnaby's attention. There was some-
thing soldierly in his bearing, and he wore a jaunty cap
and jacket. Perhaps he had been in the service at one
time or other. If he had, it could not have been very
long ago, for he was but a young fellow now.
" Well, well," he said thoughtfully; "let the fault be
where it may, it makes a man sorrowful to come back to
old England, and see her in this condition."
"I suppose the pigs will join 'em next," said the ser-
geant, with an imprecation on the rioters, " now that the
birds have set 'era the example."
" The birds ! " repeated Tom Green.
" Ah — birds! " said the sergeant testily; "that's Eng-
lish, a'n't it ? "
" I don't know what you mean."
" Go to the guard-house, and see. You'll find a bird
there, that's got their cry as pat as any of 'em, and bawls
No Popery,' like a man—or like a devil, as he says he
is. I shouldn't wonder. The devil's loose in London
somewhere. Damme if I wouldn't twist his neck round,
on the chance, if I had my way."
VOL. III. 3
34
BARNABY RUDGE.
The young inan had taken two or three steps away, as
if to go and see this creature, when he was arrested by
the voice of Barnaby.
" It's mine," he called out, half laughing and half
weeping — "my pet, my friend Grip. Ha, ha, ha!
Don't hurt him, he has done no harm. I taught him;
it's my fault. Let me have him, if you please. He's
the only friend I have left now. He'll not dance, or
talk, or whistle for you, I know ; but he will for me,
because he knows me, and loves me — though you
wouldn't think it — very well. You wouldn't hurt a
bird, I'm sure. You're a brave soldier, sir, and wouldn't
harm a woman or a child — no, no, nor a poor bird, I'm
certain."
This latter adjuration was addressed to the sergeant,
whom Barnaby judged from his red coat to be high in
office, and able to seal Grip's destiny by a word. But
that gentleman, in reply, surlily damned him for a thief
and rebel as he was, and with many disinterested impre-
cations on his own eyes, liver, blood, and body, assured
him that if it rested with him to decide, he would put a
final stopper on the bird, and his master too.
" You talk boldly to a caged man," said Barnaby, in
anger. " If I was on the other side of the door and
there were none to part us, you'd change your note —
ay, you may toss your head — you would! Kill the
bird — do. Kill anything you can, and so revenge
yourself on those who with their bare hands untied
could do as much to you !"
Having vented his defiance, he flung himself into the
farthest corner of his prison, and muttering, " Good-by,
Grip — good-by, dear old Grip ! " shed tears for the first
time since he had been taken captive; and hid his face
in the straw.
BA11NABY KUDGE.
35
He liad had some fancy at first, that the one-armed man
would help him, or would give him a kind word in an-
swer. He hardly knew why, but he hoped and thought
so. The young fellow had stopped when he called out,
and checking himself in the very act of turning round,
stood listening to every word he said. Perhaps he built
his feeble trust on this ; perhaps on his being young, and
having a frank and honest manner. However that might
be, he built on sand. The other went away directly he
had finished speaking, and neither answered him, nor re-
turned. No matter. They were all against him here;
he might have known as much. Good-by, old Grip,
good-by!
After some time, they came and unlocked the door,
and called to him to come out. He rose directly, and
complied, for he would not have them think he was sub-
dued or frightened. He walked out like a man, and
looked from face to face.
None of them returned his gaze or seemed to notice
it. They marched him back to the parade by the way
they had brought him, and there they halted, among a
body of soldiers, at least twice as numerous as that
which had taken him prisoner in the afternoon. The
officer he had seen before, bade him in a few brief words
take notice that if he attempted to escape, no matter how
favorable a chance he might suppose he had, certain of
the men had orders to fire upon him, that moment. They
then closed round him as before, and marched him off
again.
In the same unbroken order they arrived at Bow
Street, followed and beset on all sides by a crowd which
was continually increasing. Here he was placed before
a blind gentleman, and asked if he wished to say any-
36
BARNABY RUDGE.
thing. Not he. What had he got to tell them ? After
a very little talking, which he was careless of and quite
indifferent to, they told him he was to go to Newgate,
and took him away.
He went out into the street, so surrounded and hemmed
in on every side by soldiers, that he could see nothing;
but he knew there was a great crowd of people, by the
murmur; and that they were not friendly to the soldiers,
was soon rendered evident by their yells and hisses.
How often and how eagerly he listened for the voice
of Hugh ! No. There was not a, voice he knew among
them all. Was Hugh a prisoner too? Was there no
hope!
As they came nearer and nearer to the prison, the
hootings of the people grew more violent; stones were
thrown; and every now and then, a rush was made
against the soldiers, which they staggered under. One
of them, close before him, smarting under a blow upon
the temple, levelled his musket, but the officer struck it
upwards with his sword, and ordered him on peril of his
life to desist. This was the last thing he saw with any
distinctness, for directly afterwards he was tossed about,
and beaten to and fro, as though in a tempestuous sea.
But go where he would, there were the same guards
about him. Twice or thrice he was thrown down, and
so were they; but even then, he could not elude their
vigilance for a moment. They were up again, and had
closed about him, before he, with his wrists so tightly
bound, could scramble to his feet. Fenced in, thus, he
felt himself hoisted to the top of a low flight of steps,
and then for a moment he caught a glimpse of the fight-
ing in the crowd and of a few red coats sprinkled to-
gether, here and there, struggling to rejoin their fellows.
BARNABY RUDGE.
37
Next moment, everything was dark and gloomy, and he
was standing in the prison lobby; the centre of a group
of men.
A smith was speedily in attendance, who riveted upon
him a set of heavy irons. Stumbling on as well as he
could, beneath the "unusual burden of these fetters, he
was conducted to a strong stone cell, where, fastening the
door with locks, and bolts, and chains, they left him, well
secured; having first, unseen by him, thrust in Grip, who,
with his head drooping and his deep black plumes rough
and rumpled, appeared to comprehend and to partake,
his master's fallen fortunes. ' ''
38
BARNABY BUDGE.
CHAPTER LIX.
Ir is necessary at this juncture to return to Hugh,
who, having, as we have seen, called to the rioters to
disperse from ahout the Warren, and meet again as
usual, glided back into the darkness from which he had
emerged, and reappeared no more that night.
He paused in the copse which sheltered him from the
observation of his mad companions, and waited to ascer-
tain whether they drew off at his bidding, or still lin-
gered and called to him to join them. Some few, he
saw, were indisposed to go away without him, and made
towards the spot where he stood concealed as though
they were about to follow in his footsteps, and urge him
to come back ; but these men, being in their turn called
to by their friends, and in truth not greatly caring to
venture into the dark parts of the grounds, where they
might be easily surprised and taken, if any of the neigh-
bors or retainers of the family were watching them from
among the trees, soon abandoned the idea, and hastily
assembling such men as they found of their mind at the
moment, straggled off.
When he was satisfied that the great mass of the in-
surgents were imitating this example, and that the
ground was rapidly clearing, he plunged into the thick-
est portion of the little wood ; and crashing the branches
as he went, made straight towards a distant light: guided
by that, and by the sullen glow of the fire behind him.
BARNABY RUDGE.
39
As he drew nearer and nearer to the twinkling beacon
towards which he bent his course, the red glare of a few
torches began to reveal itself, and the voices of men
speaking together in a subdued tone, broke the silence,
which, save for a distant shouting now and then, already
prevailed. At length he cleared the wood, and, spring-
ing across a ditch, stood in a dark lane, where a small
body of ill-looking vagabonds, whom he had left there
some twenty minutes before, waited his coming with im-
patience.
They were gathered round an old post-chaise 01
chariot, driven by one of themselves, who sat postilion-
wise upon the near horse. The blinds were drawn up,
and Mr. Tappertit and Dennis kept guard at the two
windows. The former assumed the command of the
party, for he challenged Hugh as he advanced towards
them ; and when he did so, those who were resting on
the ground about the carriage rose to their feet and
clustered round him.
" Well! " said Simon, in a low voice ; " is all right ? "
" Right enough," replied Hugh, in the same tone.
" They're dispersing now — had begun before I came
away." * .
"And is the coast clear?"
" Clear enough before our men, I take it," said Hugh.
" There are not many who, knowing of their work over
yonder, will want to meddle with 'em to-night. — Who's
got some drink here ? "
Everybody had some plunder from the cellar; half a
dozen flasks and bottles were offered directly. He se»
tected the largest, and putting it to his mouth, sent the
wine gurgling down his throat. Having emptied it, he
threw it down, and stretched out his hand for another,
40
BARNABY RUDGE.
which he emptied likewise, at a draught. Another was
given him, and this he half emptied too. Reserving
what remained, to finish with, he asked
" Have you got anything to eat, any of you ? I'm as
ravenous as a hungry wolf. ' Which of you was in the
larder — come ? " * *
" I was, brother," said Dennis, pulling off his hat, and
fumbling in the crown. "There's a matter of cold
venison pasty somewhere or another here, if' that'll
do?"
" Do!" cried Hugh, seating himself on the pathway.
" Bring it out! Quick ! Show a light here, and gather
round! Let me sup in state, my lads! Ha, ha, ha !"
Entering into his boisterous humor, for they all had
drunk deeply, and were as wild as he, they crowded
about him, while two of their number who had torches,
held them up, one on either side of him, that his banquet
might not be despatched in the dark. Mr. Dennis, hav-
ing by this time succeeded in extricating from his hat a
great mass of pasty, which had been wedged in so tightly
that it was not easily got out, put it before him; and
Hugh, having borrowed a notched and jagged knife
from one of the company, fell to work upon it vigor-
ously.
"I should recommend you to swallow a little fire
every day, about an hour afore dinner, brother," said
Dennis, after a pause.1 " It seems to agree with you,
and to stimulate your appetite."
Hugh looked at him, and at the blackened faces by
which he was surrounded, and, stopping for a moment
to flourish his knife above his head, answered with a
roar of laughter. r
" Keep order there, will you ? " said Simon Tappertit.
BARNABY KUDGE.
4]
" Why, isn't a man allowed to regale himself, nobli
captain," retorted his lieutenant, parting the men wh<
stood between them, with his knife, that he might se<
him, — "to regale himself a little bit, after such worl
as mine ? What a hard captain ! What a strict cap
tain 1 What a tyrannical captain ! II a, ha, ha ! "
" I wish one of you fellers would hold a bottle to hit
mouth to keep him quiet," said Simon, " unless you wan
the military to be down upon us."
" And what if they are down upon us!" retorte<
Hugh. "Who cares? Who's afraid? Let'em come
I say, let 'em come. The more, the merrier. Give m<
bold Barnaby at my side, and we two will settle th(
military, without troubling any of you. Barnaby's tin
man for the military. Barnaby's health!"-
But as the majority of those present were by n<
means anxious for a second engagement that night
being already weary and exhausted, they sided witl
Mr. Tappertit, and pressed him to make haste with he
supper, for they had already delayed too long. Know
ing, even in the height of his frenzy, that they incurret
great danger by lingering so near the scene of the lat<
outrages, Hugh made an end of his meal without mor<
remonstrance, and rising, stepped up to Mr. Tapperti
and smote him on the back.
" JJow then " he cried, " I'm ready. There are bravi
birds inside this cage, eh ? Delicate birds, — tender
loving, little doves. I caged 'em—• I caged 'era—om
inore peep!"
He thrust the little tnan aside as he spoke, and mount
nig on the steps which were half let down, pulled dowr
the blind by force, and stared into the chaise like an ogn
into his larder.
42
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Ha, ha, ha! and did you scratch, and pinch, and
struggle, pretty mistress?" he cried, as he grasped a
little hand that sought in vain to free itself from his
grip: "you, so bright-eyed, and cherry-lipped, and
daintily made ? But I love you better for it, mistress.
Ay, I do. You should stab me and welcome, so that it
pleased you, and you had to cure me afterwards. I
love to see you proud and scornful. It makes you hand-
somer than ever; and who so handsome as you at any
lime, my pretty one !"
" Come! " said Mr. Tappertit, who had waited during
this speech with considerable impatience. " There's
enough of that. Come down."
The little hand seconded this admonition by thrusting
Hugh's great head away with all its force, and drawing
up the blind, amidst his noisy laughter, and vows that he
must have another look, for the last glimpse of that
sweet face had provoked him past all bearing. How-
ever, as the suppressed impatience of the party now
broke out into open murmurs, he abandoned this design,
and taking his seat upon the bar, contented himself with
tapping at the front windows of the carriage, and trying
to steal a glance inside; Mr. Tappertit mounting the
steps and hanging on by the door, issued his directions
to the driver with a commanding voice and attitude; the
rest got up behind, or ran by the side of the carriage, as
they could ; some, in imitation of Hugh, endeavored to
see the face he had praised so highly, and were reminded
of their impertinence by hints from the cudgel of Mr.
Tappertit. Thus they pursued their journey by circui-
tous and winding roads ; preserving, except when they
halted to take breath, or to quarrel about the best way of
reaching London, pretty good order and tolerable silence.
BARNABY RUDGE.
43
In the mean time, Dolly — beautiful, bewitching, cap-
tivating little Dolly — her hair dishevelled, her dress
torn, her dark eyelashes wet with tears, her bosom heav-
ing — her face, now pale with fear, now crimsoned with
indignation—her whole self a hundred times more beau-
tiful in this heightened aspect than ever she had been
before — vainly strove to comfort Emma Haredale, and
to impart to her the consolation of which she stood in so
much need herself. The soldiers were sure to come;
they must be rescued ; it would be impossible to convey
them through the streets of London, when they set the
threats of their guards at defiance, and shrieked to the
passengers for help. If they did this, when they came
into the more frequented ways, she was certain — she
was quite certain — they must be released. So poor
Dolly said, and so poor Dolly tried to think ; but the
invariable conclusion of all such arguments was, that
Dolly burst into tears ; cried, as she wrung her hands,
what would they do or think, or who would comfort
them, at home, at the Golden Key; and sobbed most
piteously.
Miss Haredale, whose feelings were usually of a
quieter kind than Dolly's, and not so much upon the
surface, was dreadfully alarmed, and indeed had only
just recovered from a swoon. She was very pale, and
the hand which Dolly held was quite cold ; but she bade
her, nevertheless, remember that, under Providence,
much must depend upon their own discretion ; that if
they remained quiet and lulled the vigilance of the
ruffians into whose hands they had fallen, the chances
of their being able to procure assistance when they
reached the town, were very much increased; that un-
less society were quite unhinged, a hot pursuit must be
44'
BARNABY RUDGE.
immediately commenced; and that her uncle, she might
be sure, would never rest until he had found them out
and rescued them. But as she said these latter words,
the idea that he had fallen in a general massacre of the
Catholics that night — no very wild or improbable sup-
position, after what they had seen and undergone —
struck her dumb; and, lost in the horrors they had
witnessed, and those they might be yet reserved for,
she sat incapable of thought, or speech, or outward
show of grief: as rigid, and almost as white and cold,
as marble.
Oh, how many many times, in that long ride, did Dolly
think of her old lover — poor, fond, slighted Joe ! How
many, many times, did she recall that night when she
ran into his arms from the very man now projecting his
hateful gaze into the darkness where she sat, and leering
through the glass, in monstrous admiration ! And when
she thought of Joe, and what a brave fellow he was, and
how he would have rode boldly up, and dashed in among
these villains now, yes, though they were double the
number — and here she clinched her little hand, and
pressed her foot upon the ground—the pride she felt
for a moment in having won his heart, faded in a burst
of tears, and she sobbed more bitterly than ever.
As the night wore on, and they proceeded by ways
which were quite unknown to them — for they could
recognize none of the objects of which they sometimes
caught a hurried glimpse—their fears increased; nor
were they without good foundation ; it was not difficult
for two beautiful young women to find, in their being
borne they knew not whither, by a band of daring vil-
lains who eyed them as some among these fellows did,
reasons for the worst alarm. When they at last entered
BARNABY RUDGE.
45
London by a suburb with which they were wholly un-
acquainted, it was past midnight, and the streets were
dark and empty. Nor was this the worst, for the car-
riage stopping in a lonely spot, Hugh suddenly opened
the door, jumped in, and took his seat between them.
It was in vain they cried for help. He put his arm
about the neck of each, and swore to stifle them with
kisses if they were not as silent as the grave.
"I come here to keep you quiet," he said, "and
that's the means I shall take. So don't be quiet,
pretty mistresses — make a noise — do — and I shall
like it all the better."
They were proceeding at a rapid pace, and apparently
with fewer attendants than before, though it was so dark
(the torches being extinguished) that this was mere con-
jecture. They shrunk from his touch, each into the
farthest corner of the carriage; but shrink as Dolly
would, his arm encircled her waist, and held her fast.
She neither cried nor spoke, for terror and disgust de-
prived her of the power ; but she plucked at his hand as
though she would die in the effort to disengage herself;
and crouching on the ground, with ber head averted
and held down, repelled him with a strength she won-
tiered at as much as he. The carriage stopped again.
" Lift this one out," said Hugh to the man who
opened the door, as he took Miss Haredale's hand,
and felt how heavily it fell. " She's fainted."
" So much the better," growled Dennis — it was that
amiable gentleman. " She's quiet. I always like 'em
to faint, unless they're very tender and composed."
" Can you take her by yourself?" asked Hugh.
" I don't know till I try. I ought to be able to; I've
lifted up a good many in my time," s^icl the hangman.
46
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Up then! She's no small weight, brother; none of
these here fine gals are. Up again! Now we have
her."
Having by this time hoisted the young lady into his
arms, he staggered off with his burden.
" Look ye, pretty bird," said Hugh, drawing Dolly tow-
ards him. " Remember what I told you — a kiss for
every cry. Scream, if you love me, darling. Scream
once, mistress. Pretty mistress, only once, if you love
tf
me.
Thrusting his face away with all her force, and hold-
ing down her head, Dolly submitted to be carried out of
the chaise, and borne after Miss Haredale into a miser-
able cottage, where Hugh, after hugging her to his
breast, set her gently down upon the floor.
Poor Dolly ! do what she would, she only looked the
better for it, and tempted them the more. When her
eyes flashed angrily, and her ripe lips slightly parted,
to give her rapid breathing vent, who could resist it?
When she wept and sobbed as though her heart would
break, and bemoaned her miseries in the sweetest voice
that ever fell upon a listener's ear, who could be insensi-
ble to the little winning pettishness which now and then
displayed itself even in the sincerity and earnestness of
her grief? When, forgetful for a moment of herself, as
she was now, she fell on her knees beside her friend, and
bent over her, and laid her cheek to hers, and put hei
arms about her, what mortal eyes could have avoided
wandering to the delicate bodice, the streaming hair, the
neglected dress, the perfect abandonment and uncon-
sciousness of the blooming little beauty ? Who could
look on and see her lavish caresses and endearments,
and not desire to be in Emma Haredale's place; to
BARNABY BUDGE.
47
be either her or Dolly; either the hugging or the
hugged ? Not Hugh. Not Dennis.
"I tell you what it is, young women,"; said Mr
Dennis, "I a'n't much of a lady's man myself, nor
am l a party in the present business further than
lending a willing hand to my friends: but if I see
much more of this here sort of thing, I shall become
a principal instead of a accessory. I tell you candid."
" Why have you brought us here ?" said Emma,
f Are we to be murdered ? "
" Murdered!cried Dennis, sitting down upon a
stool, and regarding her with great favor. " Why, my
dear, who'd murder sich chickabiddies as you ? If you
was to ask me, now, whether you was brought here to
be married, there might be something in it."
And here he exchanged a grin with Hugh, who re-
moved his eyes from Dolly for the purpose.
" No, no," said Dennis, " there'll be no murdering,
my pets. Nothing of that sort. Quite the contrairy."
" You are an older man than your companion, sir,"
said Emma, trembling. " Have you .no pity for us ?
Do you not consider that we are women ? " 1
" I do indeed, my dear," retorted Dennis. " It would
be very hard not to, with two such specimens afore my
eyes. Ha, ha! Oh yes, I consider that. We all eon-
sider that, miss."
He shook his head waggishly, leered at Hugh again,
and laughed very much, as if he had said a ncble thing,
and rather thought he was coming out.
" There'll be no murdering, my dear. Not a bit on it.
I tell you what though, brother," said Dennis, cocking
his hat for the convenience of scratching his head, and
looking gravely at Hugh, "it's worthy of notice, as a
48
BARNABY RUDGE.
proof of the amazing equalness and dignity of our law,
that it don't make no distinction between men and
women. I've heerd the judge say, sometimes to a high-
wayman or house-breaker as had tied the ladies neck and
heels — you'll excuse me making mention of it, my dar-
lings — and put 'em in a cellar, that he showed no con-
sideration to women. Now, I say that there judge didn't
know his business, brother; and that if I had been that
there highwayman or house-breaker, I should have made
answer: ' What are you a-talking of, my lord ? I showed
the women as much consideration as the law does, and
what more would you have me do ?' If you was to count
up in the newspapers the number of females as have
been worked off in this here city alone, in the last ten
year," said Mr. Dennis thoughtfully, " you'd be sur-
prised at the total«— quite amazed, you would. There's
a dignified and equal thing; a beautiful thing! But
we've no security for its lasting. Now that they've
begun to favor these here Papists, I shouldn't wonder
if they went and altered even that, one of these days.
Upon my soul, I shouldn't."
This subject, perhaps from being of too exclusive and
professional a nature, failed to interest Hugh as much
as his friend had anticipated. But he had no time to
pursue it, for at this crisis, Mr. Tappertit entered pre-
cipitately ; at sight of whom Dolly uttered a scream of
joy, and fairly threw herself into his arms.
" 1 knew it, I was sure of it!" cried Dolly. " My
dear father's at the door. Thank God. thank God!
Bless you, Sim. Heaven bless you for this! "
Simon Tappertit, who had at first implicitly believed
that the locksmith's daughter, unable any longer to sup-
press her secret passion for himself, was about to give
BARKABY RUDGE.
49
it full vent in its intensity, and to declare that she was
his forever, looked extremely foolish when she said
these words; — the more so, as they were received by
Hugh and Dennis with a loud laugh, which made her
draw back, and regard him with a fixed and earnest
.ook. *
" Miss Haredale," said Sim, after a very awkward
silence, " I hope you're as comfortable as circumstances
will permit of. Dolly Varden, my darling — my own,
my lovely one — I hope you're pretty comfortbale like-
wise." 1
Poor little Dolly! She saw how it was; hid her
face in her hands; and sobbed more bitterly than
ever.
" You meet in me, Miss V.," said Simon, laying his
hand upon his breast, " not a 'prentice, not a workman,
not a slave, not the wictim of your father's tyrannical
behavior, but the leader of a great people, the captain
of a noble band, in which these gentlemen are, as I may
say, corporals and sergeants. You behold in me, not a
private individual, but a public character; not a mender
of locks, but a healer of the wounds of his unhappy
country. Dolly V., sweet Dolly V., for how many years
have I looked forward to this present meeting! For
how many years has it been my intention to exalt and
ennoble you ! I redeem it. Behold in me, your hus-
band. Yes, beautiful Dolly — charmer — enslaver — S
Tappertit is all your own ! "
As he said these words he advanced towards her.
Dolly retreated till she could go no farther, and then
sank down upon the floor. Thinking it very possible
that this might be maiden modesty, Simon essayed to
raise her ; on which Dolly, goaded to desperation, wound
vol. m. 4
BARNABY RUDGE.
her hands in his hair, and crying out amidst her tears
that he was a dreadful little wretch, and always had
been, shook, and pulled, and beat him, until he was fain
to call for help, most lustily. Hugh had never admired
her half so much as at that moment.
" She's in an excited state to-night," said Simon, as
he smoothed his rumpled feathers, " and don't know
when she's well off. Let her be by herself till to-mor-
row, and that'll bring her down a little. Carry her into
the next house I "
Hugh had her in his arms directly. It might be
that Mr. Tappertit's heart was really softened by tier
distress, or it might be that he felt it in some degree
indecorous that his intended bride should be struggling
in the grasp of another man. 1r He commanded him,
on second thoughts, to put her down again, and looked
moodily on as she flew to Miss Haredale's side, and
clinging to her dress, hid her flushed face in its folds.
" They shall remain here together till to-morrow," said
Simon, who had now quite recovered his dignity — till
to-morrow. Come away ! "
" Ay!" cried Hugh. " Come away, captain. Ha, ha,
ha!"
" What are you laughing at ?" demanded Simon
sternly.
" Nothing, captain, nothing," Hugh rejoined; and as
he spoke, and clapped his hand upon the shoulder of the
little man, he laughed again, for some unknown reason,
with tenfold violence.
Mr. Tappertit surveyed him from head to foot with
lofty scorn (this only made him laugh the more), and
turning to the prisoners, said: —
" You'll take notice ladies, that this place is well
BARNABY BUDGE.
51
watched on every side, and that the least noise is cer-
tain to be attended with unpleasant consequences. You'll
hear — both of you — more of our intentions to-mor-
row. In the mean time, don't show yourselves at the
window, or appeal to any of the people you may see
pass it; for if you do, it'll be known directly that you
come from a Catholic house, and all the exertions our
men can make, may not be able to save your lives."
With this last caution, which was true enough, he
turned to the door, followed by Hugh and Dennis. They
paused for a moment, going out, to look at them clasped
in each other's arms, and then left the cottage ; fastening
the door, and setting a good watch upon it, and indeed
all round the house.
" I say," growled Dennis, as they walked away it
company, "that's a dainty pair. Muster Gashford's one
is as handsome as the other, eh?"
" Hush ! " said Hugh, hastily. " Don't you mention
names. It's a bad habit."
" I wouldn't like ;to be him, then (as you don't like
names), when he breaks it out to her; that's all," said
Dennis. " She's one of them fine, black-eyed, proud
gals, as I wouldn't trust at such times with a knife too
near 'em. I've seen some of that sort, afore now. I
recollect one that was worked off, many year ago — and
there was a gentleman in that case too — that says to
me, with her lip a-trembling, but her hand as steady as
ever I see one ; ' Dennis, I'm near my end, but if I had
a dagger in these fingers, and he was within my reach,
I'd strike him dead afore me ;' — ah, she did — and
she'd have done it too !"
" Strike who dead ? " demanded Hugh.
" How should I know, brother ?" answered Dennis.
u She never said; not she."
52
BARNAUr KUDOE.
Hugh looked, for a moment, as though he would have
made some further inquiry into this incoherent recollec-
tion; but Simon Tappertit, who had been meditating
deeply, gave his thoughts a new direction.
" Hugh !" said Sim. " You have done well to-day
You shall be rewarded. So have you, Dennis.—There's
no young woman you want to carry off, is there ? "
" N — no," returned that gentleman, stroking his griz-
zled beard, which was some two inches long. "None in
partickler, I think."
" Very good," said Sim ; " then we'll find some other
way of making it up to you. As to you, old boy " — he
turned to Hugh —" you shall have Miggs (her that I
promised you, you know) within three days. Mind, I
pass my word for it."
Hugh thanked him heartily; and as he did so, his
laughing fit returned with such violence that he was
obliged to hold his side with one hand, and to lean with
the other on the shoulder of his small captain, without
whose support he would certainly have rolled upon the
ground.
BARNABY RUDGE.
53
CHAPTER LX.
Thk three worthies turned their faces towards The
Boot, with the intention of passing the night in that
place of rendezvous, and of seeking the repose they so
much needed in the shelter of their old den ; for now
that the mischief and destruction they had purposed
were achieved, and their prisoners were safely bestowed
for the night, they began to be conscious of exhaustion,
and to feel the wasting effects of the madness which had
led to such deplorable results.
Notwithstanding the lassitude and fatigue which op-
pressed him now, in common with his two companions,
and indeed with all who had taken an active share in
that night's work, Hugh'3 boisterous merriment broke
out afresh whenever he looked at Simon Tappertit, and
vented itself — much to that gentleman's indignation —
in such shouts of laughter as bade fair to bring the
watch upon them, and involve them in a skirmish, to
which in their present worn-out condition they might
prove by no means equal. Even Mr. Dennis, who was
not at all particular on the score of gravity or dignity,
and who had a great relish for his young friend's eccen-
trie humors, took occasion to remonstrate with him on
this imprudent behavior, which he held to be a species
of suicide, tantamount to a man's working himself off
without being overtaken by the law, than which he could
imagine nothing more ridiculous or impertinent.
54
BARNABY RUDGE.
Not abating one jot of his noisy mirth for these re-
monstrances, Hugh reeled along between them, having
an arm of each, until they hove in sight of The Boot,
and were within a field or two of that convenient tavern.
He happened by great good luck to have roared and
shouted himself into silence by this time. They were
proceeding onward without noise, when a scout who had
been creeping about the ditches all night, to warn any
stragglers from encroaching farther on what was now
such dangerous ground, peeped cautiously from his hid-
ing-place, and called to them to stop.
" Stop! and why ? " said Hugh.
Because (the scout replied) the house was filled with
constables and soldiers; having been surprised that after-
noon. The inmates had fled or been taken into custody,
he could not say which. He had prevented a great many
people from approaching nearer, and he believed they
had gone to the markets and such places to pass the
night. He had seen the distant fires, but they were all
out now. He had heard the people who passed and
repassed, speaking of them too, and could report that the
prevailing opinion was one of apprehension and dismay.
He had not heard a word of Barnaby — didn't even
know his name — but it had been said in his hearing
that some man had been taken and carried off to New-
gate. Whether this was true or false he could not affirm.
The three took counsel together, on hearing this, and
debated what it might be best to do. Hugh, deeming it
possible that Barnaby was in the hands of the soldiers,
and at that moment under detention at The Boot, was
for advancing stealthily, and filing the house; but his
companions, who objected to such rash measures unless
they had a crowd at their backs, represented that if Bar-
BARNABY RUDGE.
55
naby were taken he had assuredly been removed to a
stronger prison; they would never have dreamed, he
said, of keeping him all night in a place so weak and
open to attack. Yielding to this reasoning, and to their
persuasions, Hugh consented to turn back, and to repair
to Fleet Market; for which place, it seemed, a few of
their boldest associates had shaped their course, on re-
ceiving the same intelligence.
Feeling their strength recruited and their spirits
roused, now that there was a new necessity for action,
they hurried away, quite forgetful of the fatigue under
which they had been sinking but a few minutes before;
and soon arrived at their place of destination.
Fleet Market, at that time, was a long irregular row of
wooden sheds and pent-houses, occupying the centre of
what is now called Farringdon Street. They were
jumbled together in a most unsightly fashion, in the
middle of the road; to the great obstruction of the
thoroughfare and the annoyance of passengers, who
were fain to make their way, as they best could?
among carts, baskets, barrows, trucks, casks, bulks, and
benches, and to jostle with porters, hucksters, wagoners,
and a motley crowd of buyers, sellers, pickpockets, va-
grants, and idlers. The air was perfumed with the
stench of rotten leaves and faded fruit; the refuse of
the butchers' stalls, and offal and garbage of a hundred
kinds. It was indispensable to most public conveniences
in those days, that they should be public nuisances like-
wise; and Fleet Market maintained the principle to
admiration.
To this place, perhaps because its sheds and baskets
were a tolerable substitute for beds, or perhaps because it
afforded the means of a hasty barricade in case of need,
56
BABNABY BUDGE.
many of the rioters had straggled not only that night,
but for two or three nights before. It was now broad
day, but the morning being cold, a group of them were
gathered round a fire in a public-house, drinking hot purl,
and smoking pipes, and planning new schemes for to-
morrow.
Hugh and his two friends being known to most of
these men, were received with signal marks of approba-
tion, and inducted into the most honorable seats. The
room-door was closed and fastened to keep intruders at
a distance, and then they proceeded to exchange news.
" The soldiers have taken possession of The Boot, I
hear," said Hugh. " Who knows anything about it ? "
Several cried that they did; but the majority of the
company having been engaged in the assault upon the
Warren, and all present having been concerned in one
or other of the night's expeditions, it proved that they
knew no more than Hugh himself; having been merely
warned by each other, or by the scout, and knowing
nothing of their own knowledge.
" We left a man on guard there to-day," said Hugh,
looking round him, "who is not here." You know
who it is — Barnaby, who brought the soldier down, at
Westminster. Has any man seen or heard of him ?"
They shook their heads, and murmured an answer in
the negative, as each man looked round and appealed to
his fellow ; when a noise was heard without, and a man
was heard to say that he wanted Hugh — that he must
see Hugh.
" He is but one man," cried Hugh to those who kept
the door ; " let him come in."
" Ay, ay !" muttered the others. " Let him come in.
Let him come in."
BARNABY RUDGE.
57
The door was accordingly unlocked and opened. A
one-armed man, with his head and face tied up with a
bloody cloth as though he had been severely beaten, his
clothes torn, and his remaining hand grasping a thick
stick, rushed in among them, and panting for breath
demanded which was Hugh.
" Here he is," replied the person he inquired for. " I
am Hugh. What do you want with me ? "
" I have a message for you," said the man. " You
know one Barnaby."
" What of him ? Did he send the message ? "
" Yes. He's taken. He's in one of the strong cells
in Newgate. He defended himself as well as he could,
but was overpowered by numbers. That's his mes-
sage."
" When did you see him ? " asked Hugh, hastily.
" On his way to prison, where he was taken by a party
of soldiers. They took a by-road, and not the one we
expected. I was one of the few who tried to rescue
him, and he called to me, and told me to tell Hugh
where he was. We made a good struggle, though it
failed. Look here! "
He pointed to his dress and to his bandaged head, and
still panting for breath, glanced round the room; then
faced towards Hugh again.
" I know you by sight," he said, " for I was in the
crowd on Friday, and "on Saturday, and yestex-day, but
I didn't know your name. You're a bold fellow, I know.
So is he. He fought like a lion to-night, but it was of
no use. I did my best, considering that I want this
limb."
Again he glanced inquisitively round the room — or
6eemed to do so, for l is face was nearly hidden by the
58
BARNABY RUDGE.
bandage — and again facing sharply towards Hugh,
grasped his stick as if he half expected to be set upon,
and stood on the defensive.
If he had any such apprehension, however, he was
speedily reassured by the demeanor of all present.
None thought of the bearer of the tidings. He was
lost in the news he brought. Oath9, threats, and ex-
ecrations were vented on all sides. Some cried that
if they bore this tamely, another day would see them
all in jail ; some, that they should have rescued the
other prisoners, and this would not have happened.
One man cried in a loud voice, " Who'll follow me to
Newgate!" and there was a loud shout and a general
rush towards the door.
But Hugh and Dennis stood with their backs against
it, and kept them back, until the clamor had so far sub-
sided that their voices could be heard, when they called
to them together that to go now, in broad day, would be
madness; and that if they waited until night and ar-
ranged a plan of attack, they might release, not only
their own companions, but all the prisoners, and burn
down the jail.
"Not that jail alone," cried Hugh, "but every jail
in London. They shall have no place to put their
prisoners in. We'll burn them all down ; make bon-
fires of them eveij one! Here!" he cried, catching
at the hangman's hand. " Let all who're men here
join with us. Shake hands upon it. Barnaby out of
jail, and not a jail left standing! Who joins ? "
Every man there. And they swore a great oath to
release their friends from Newgate next night; to force
the doors and burn the jail; or perish in the fire them-
Belves.
barn a. by kudge.
f
59
CHAPTER LXI.
On that same night — events so crowd upon each
other in convulsed and distracted times, that more than
the stirring incidents of a whole life often become com-
pressed into the compass of four-and-twenty hours — on
that same night, Mr. Haredale, having strongly bound
his prisoner, with the assistance of the sexton, and forced
him to mount his horse, conducted him to Chigwell;
bent upon procuring a conveyance to London from that
place, and carrying him at once before a Justice. The
disturbed state of the town would be, he knew, a suffi-
cient reason for demanding the murderer's committal to
prison before daybreak, as no man could answer for the
security of any of the watch-houses or ordinary places of
detention ; and to convey a prisoner through the streets
when the mob were again abroad, would not only be a
task of great danger and hazard, but would be to chal-
lenge an attempt at rescue. Directing the sexton to
lead the horse, he walked close by the murderer's side,
and in this order they reached the village about the mid-
die of the night.
The people were all awake and up, for they were fear-
ful of being burnt in their beds, and sought to comfort
and assure each other by watching in company. A few
of the stoutest-hearted were armed and gathered in a
body on the green. To these who knew him well, Mr.
Haredale addressed himself, briefly narrating what had
6C
BARNABY BUDGE.
happened, and beseeching them to aid in conveying the
criminal to London before the dawn of day.
But not a man among them dared to help him by so
much as the motion of a finger. The rioters, in their
passage through the village, had menaced with their
fiercest vengeance any person who should aid in extin-
guishing the fire, or render the least assistance to him,
or any catholic whomsoever. Their threats extended to
their lives and all that they possessed. They were as-
sembled for their own protection, and could not endanger
themselves by lending any aid to him. This they told
him, not without hesitation and regret, as they kept aloof
in the moonlight and glanced fearfully at the ghostly
rider, who, with his head drooping on his breast and his
hat slouched down upon his brow, neither moved nor
spoke.
Finding it impossible to persuade them, and indeed
hardly knowing how to do so after what they had seen
of the fury of the crowd, Mr. Haredale besought them
that at least they would leave him free to act for himself,
and would suffer him to take the only chaise and pair of
horses that the place afforded. This was not acceded to
without some difficulty, but in the end they told him to
do what he would, and go away from them in Heaven's
name.
Leaving the sexton at the horse's bridle, he drew out
the chaise with his own hands, and would have harnessed
the horses, but that the post-boy of the village — a soft-
hearted, good-for-nothing, vagabond kind of fellow —
was moved by his earnestness and passion, and, throwing
down a pitchfork with which he was armed, swore that
the rioters might cut him into mince-meat if they liked,
but he would not stand by and see an honest gentleman
BARNABY RUDGE.
61
who had done no wrong, reduced to such extremity,
without doing what he could to help him. Mr. Hare-
dale shook him warmly by the hand, and thanked him
from his heart. In five minutes' time the chaise was
"eady, and this good scapegrace in his saddle. The mur-
derer was put inside, the blinds were drawn up, the sex-
ton took his seat upon the bar, Mr. Haredale'mounted
his horse and rode close beside the door; and so they
started in the dead of night, and in profound silence, for
London.
The consternation was so extreme that even the horses
which had escaped the flames at the Warren, could find
no friends to shelter them. They passed them on the
road, browzing on the stunted grass ; and the driver told
them, that the poor beasts had wandered to the village
first, but had been driven away lest they should bring
the vengeance of the crowd on any of the inhabitants.
Nor was this feeling confined to such small places,
where the people were timid, ignorant, and unprotected.
When they came near London they met in the gray
light of morning, more than one poor catholic family
who, terrified by the threats and warnings of their
neighbors, were quitting the city on foot, and who told
them they could hire no cart or horse for the removal of
their goods, and had been compelled to leave them be-
hind, at the mercy of the crowd. Near Mile-end they
passed a house, the master of which, a catholic gentle-
man of small means, having hired a wagon to remove
his furniture by midnight, had had it all brought down
into the street to wait the vehicle's arrival, and save time
in the packing. But the man with whom he made
the bargain, alarmed by the fires that night, and by the
sight of the rioters passing his door, had refused to keep
62
BARNABY RUDGE.
it: and the poor gentleman, with his wife and servant
and their little children, were sitting trembling among
their goods in the open street, dreading the arrival of
day, and not knowing where to turn or what to do.
It was the same, they heard, with the public convey-
ances. The panic was so great that the mails and stage-
coaches Were afraid to carry passengers who professed
the obnoxious religion. If the drivers knew them, or
they admitted that they held that creed, they would not
take them, no, though they offered large sums; and yes-
terday, people had been afraid to recognize catholic ac-
quaintance in the streets, lest they should be marked by
spies, and burnt out, as it was called, in consequence.
One mild old man — a priest, whose chapel was de-
stroyed; a very feeble, patient, inoffensive creature —
who was trudging away, alone, designing to walk some
distance from town, and then try his fortune with the
coaches, told Mr. Haredale that he feared he might not
find a magistrate who would have the hardihood to com-
mit a prisoner to jail, on his complaint. But notwith-
standing these discouraging accounts they went on, and
reached the Mansion House soon after sunrise.
Mr. Haredale threw himself from his horse, but he
had no need to knock at the door, for it was already
open, and there stood upon the step a portly old man,
with a very red, or rather purple face, who with an anx-
ious expression of countenance, was remonstrating with
some unseen person up-stairs, while the porter essayed
to close the door by degrees and get rid of him. With
the intense impatience and excitement natural to one in
his condition, Mr. Haredale thrust himself forward and
was about to speak, when the fat old gentleman inter-
posed:
BARNABY RUDGE.
63
" My good sir," said he, " pray let me get an answer.
This is the sixth time I have been here. I was here
five times yesterday. My house is threatened with de-
struction. It is to be burned down to-night, and was to
have been last night, but they had other business on
their hands. Pray let me get an answer."
" My good sir," returned Mr. Haredale, shaking his
head, " my house is burned to the ground. But Heaven
forbid that yours should be. Get your answer. Be
brief, in mercy to me."
" Now, you hear this, my lord ? " — said the old gen-
tleman, calling up the stairs, to where the skirt of a
dressing-gown fluttered on the landing-place. " Here is
a gentleman here, whose house was actually burnt down
last night."
" Dear me, dear me," replied a testy voice, "1 am
very sorry for it, but what am I to do ? I can't build it
up again. The chief magistrate of the city can't go and
be a-rebuilding of people's bouses, my good sir. Stuff
and nonsense!"
" But the chief magistrate of the city can prevent
people's houses from having any need to be rebuilt, if
the chief magistrate's a man, and not a dummy — can't
he, my lord ?" cried the old gentleman in a choleric
manner.
" You are disrespectable, sir," said the Lord Mayor —
" leastways, disrespectful I mean."
" Disrespectful, my lord !" returned the old gentleman
" I was respectful five times yesterday. I can't be re-
spectful forever. Men can't stand on being respectful
when their houses are going to be burnt over their heads,
with them in 'em. What am I to do, my lord? Am 1
to have any protection ! "
64
BAKNAItY Bl'Dnn.
"I told jou yesterday, sir," said lYi'j Lord Mi.yor,
" that you might have an alderman in your house, if you
could get one to come."
" What the devil's the good of an alderman ?" re
turned the choleric old gentleman.
" — To awe the crowd, sir," said the Lord Mayor.
" Oh Lord ha' mercy!" whimpered the old gentleman,
as he wiped his forehead in a state of ludicrous distress,
" to think of sending an alderman to awe a crowd!
Why, my lord, if they were even so many babies, fed on
mother's milk, what do you think they'd care for an al-
derman ! Will you come ? "
" I!" said the Lord Mayor, most emphatically: " Cer-
tainly not."
" Then what," returned the old gentleman, " what am
I to do ? Am I a citizen of England ? Am I to have
the benefit of the laws ? Am I to have any return for
the King's taxes ? "
"I don't know, I am sure," said the Lord Mayor;
" what a pity it is you're a catholic ! Why couldn't you
be a protestant, and then you wouldn't have got yourself
into such a mess? I'm sure I don't know what's to be
done. — There are great people at the bottom of these
riots. — Oh dear me, what a thing it is to be a public
character! — You must look in again in the course of
the day. — Would a javelin-man do? — Or there's Philips
the constable, — he's disengaged, — he's not very old for
a man at his time of life, except in his legs, and if you
put him up at a window he'd look quite young by candle-
light, and might frighten 'em very much.— Oh dear! —
well, — we'll see about it."
" Stop! " cried Mr. Haredale, pressing the door open
as the porter strove to shut it, and speaking rapidly
BARNABV BUDGE.
65
" My Lord Mayor, I beg you not to go away. I have a
man here, who committed a murder eight-and-twenty
years ago. Half a dozen words from me, on oath, will
justify you in committing him to prison, for reexamina-
tion. I only seek, just now, to have him consigned to a
place of safety. The least delay may involve his being
rescued by the rioters."
" Oh dear me ! " cried the Lord Mayor. " God bles3
my soul — and body — oh Lor! — well I! — there are
great people at the bottom of these riots, you know. —
You really- mustn't."
" My lord," said Mr. Haredale, " the murdered gentle-
man was my brother; I succeeded to his inheritance;
there were not wanting slanderous tongues at that time,
to whisper that the guilt of this most foul and cruel
deed was mine — mine, who loved him, as he knows, in
Heaven, dearly. The time has come, after all these
years of gloom and misery, for avenging him, and bring-
ing to light a crime so artful and so devilish that it has
no parallel. Every second's delay on your part loosens
this man's bloody hands again, and leads to his escape.
My lord, I charge you hear me, and despatch this matter
on the instant."
" Oh dear me ! " cried the chief magistrate; " these
a'n't business hours, you know — I wonder at you —
how ungentlemanly it is of you — you mustn't — you
really mustn't. — And I suppose you are a catholic
too ? "
"I am," said Mr. Haredale.
" God bless my soul, I believe people turn catholics a'
purpose to vex and worrit me," cried the Lord Mayor.
tt I wish you wouldn't come here ; they'll be setting the
Mansion House afire next, and we shall have you to
VOL. Ill 5
66
BARNABY RUDGE.
thank for it. You must lock your prisoner up, sir-—
give him to a watchman — and — and call again at a
proper time. Then we'll see about it! "
Before Mr. Haredale could answer, the sharp closing
of a door and drawing of its bolts, gave notice that the
Lord Mayor had retreated to his bedroom, and that
further remonstrance would be unavailing. The two
clients retreated likewise, and the porter shut them out
into the street.
" That's the way he puts me off," said • the old gentle-
man, " I can get no redress and no help. What are you
going to do, sir ? "
" To try elsewhere," answered Mr. Haredale, who was
by this time on horseback.
" I feel for you, I assure you — and well I may, for
we are in a common cause," said the old gentleman. " I
may not have a house to offer you to-night; let me ten-
der it while I can. On second thoughts though," he
added, putting up a pocket-book he had produced while
speaking, " I'll not give you a card, for if it was found
upon you, it might get you into trouble. Langdale —
that's my name — vintner and distiller — Holborn HOI
— you're heartily welcome, if you'll come."
Mr. Haredale bowed, and rode off, close beside the
chaise as before; determining to repair to the house of
Sir John Fielding, who had the reputation of being a
bold and active magistrate, and fully resolved, in case
the rioters should come upon them, to do execution on
the murderer with his own hands, rather than suffer him
to be released.
They arrived at the magistrate's dwelling, however,
without molestation (for the mob, as we have seen, were
then intent on deeper schemes), and knocked at the
BAKNABY BUDGE.
67
door. As it had been pretty generally rumored that Sir
John was proscribed by the rioters, a body of thief-
takers had been keeping watch in the house all night.
To one of them, Mr. Haredale stated his business, which
appearing to the man of sufficient moment to warrant
his arousing the justice, procured him an immediate
audience.
No time was lost in committing the murderer to New-
gate ; then a new building, recently completed at a vast
expense, and considered to be of enormous strength.
The warrant being made out, three of the thief-takers
bound him afresh (he had been struggling, it seemed, in
the chaise, and had loosened his manacles) ; gagged him
lest they should meet with any of the mob, and he should
call to them for help; and seated themselves along with
him in the carriage. These men being all well armed,
made a formidable escort; but they drew up the blinds
again, as though the carriage were empty, and directed
Mr. Haredale to ride forward, that he might not attract
attention by seeming to belong to it.
The wisdom of this proceeding was sufficiently ob-
vious, for as they hurried through the city they passed
among several groups of men, who, if they had not sup-
posed the chaise to be quite empty, would certainly have
stopped it. But those within keeping quite close, and the
driver tarrying to be asked no questions, they reached
the prison without interruption, and, once there, had
him out, and safe within its gloomy walls, in a twin-
kling.
With eager eyes and strained attention, Mr. Haredale
saw him chained, and locked and barred up in his cell.
Nay, when he had left the jail, and stood in the free
street, without, he felt the iron plates upon the doors
68
BABNABY BUDGE.
with his hands, and drew them over the stone wall, to as-
sure himself that it was real; and to exult in its being so
strong, and rough, and cold. It was not until he turned
his back upon the jail, and glanced along the empty
streets, so lifeless and quiet in the bright morning, that
he felt the weight upon his heart; that he knew he was
tortured by anxiety for those he had left at home; and
that home itself was but another bead in the long rosary
of his regrets.
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER LXII.
The prisoner, left to himself, sat down upon his bed-
Head: and resting his elbows on his knees, and his chin
upon his hands, remained in that attitude for hours. It
would be hard to say, of what nature his reflections were.
They had no distinctness, and, saving for some flashes
now and then, no reference to his condition or the train
of circumstances by which it had been brought about.
The cracks in the pavement of his'cell, the chinks in the
wall where stone was joined to stone, the bars in the
window, the iron ring upon the floor, — such things as
these, subsiding strangely into one another, and awaken-
ing an indescribable kind of interest and amusement, en-
grossed his whole mind; and although at the bottom of
his every thought there was an uneasy sense of guilt,
and dread of death, he felt no more than that vague con-
sciousness of it, which a sleeper has of pain. It pursues
him through his dreams, gnaws at the heart of all hi9
fancied pleasures, robs the banquet of its taste, music of
its sweetness, makes happiness itself unhappy, and yet
is no bodilv sensation, but a phantom without shape, or
form, or visible presence; pervading everything, but hav-
ing 110 existence ; recognizable everywhere, but nowhere
seen or touched, or met with face to face, until the sleep
is past, and waking agony returns.
After a long time, the door of his cell tpened. He
70
BARNABY BUDGE.
looked up; saw the blind man enter; and relapsed into
his former position.
Guided by his breathing, the visitor advanced to where
he sat; and stopping beside him, and stretching out his
hand to assure himself that he was right, remained, for a
good space, silent.
" This is bad, Rudge. This is bad," he said at length.
The prisoner shuffled with his feet upon the ground in
taming his body from him, but made no other answer;
" How were you taken ? " he asked. " And where ?
You never told me more than half your secret. No
matter ; I know it now. How was it, and where, eh ? "
he asked again, coming still nearer to him.
" At Chigwell," said the other.
" At Chigwell! How came you there ? "
" Because I went there, to avoid the man I stumbled
on," he answered. " Because I was chased and driven
there, by him and Fate. Because I was urged to go
there, by something stronger than my own will. When
I found him watching in the house she used to live in,
night after night, I knew I never could escape him—•
never ! and when I heard the Bell" —
He shivered; muttered that it was very cold; paced
quickly up and down the narrow cell; and sitting down
again, fell into his old posture. i
" You were saying," said the blind man, after another
pause, " that when you heard the Bell " —
" Let it be, will you ? " he retorted in a hurried voice.
'• It hangs there yet."
The blind man turned a wistful and inquisitive face
towards him, but he continued to speak, without noticing
him.
" I went to Chigwell, in search of the mob. I have
BARNABY RUDGE.
71
been so hunted and beset by this man, that I knew my
only hope of safety lay in joining them. They had gone
on before; I followed them when it left off."
" When what left off ? "
" The Bell. They had quitted the place. I hoped
that some of them might be still lingering among the
ruins, and was searching for them when I heard " — he
drew a long breath, and wiped his forehead with his
sleeve — " his voice."
" Saying what ? "
" No matter what. I don't know. I was then at the
foot of the turret, where I did the "—
" Ay," said the blind man, nodding his head with per-
feet composure, " I understand."
" I climbed the stair, or so much of it as was left;
meaning to hide till he had gone. But he heard me; and
followed almost as soon as 1 set foot upon the ashes."
" You might have hidden in the wall, and thrown him
down, or stabbed him," said the blind man.
" Might I ? Between that man and me, was one who
led him on — X saw it, though he did not — and raised
above his head a bloody hand. It was in the room
above that he and I stood glaring at each other on the
night of the murder, and before he fell he raised his
hand like that, and fixed his eyes on me. I knew the
chase would end there."
" You have a strong fancy," said the blind man, with
smile.
" Strengthen yours with blood, and see what it will
come to."
He groaned, and rocked himself, and looking up for
the first time, said, in a low, hollow voice: —
" Eight-and-twenty years I Eight-and-twenty years!
72
BARNABY RUDGE.
He has never changed in all that time, never grown
older, nor altered in the least degree. He has been
before me in the dark night, and the broad sunny day;
in the twilight, the moonlight, the sunlight, the light of
fire, and lamp, and candle; and in the deepest gloom.
Always the same ! In company, in solitude, on land, on
shipboard ; sometimes leaving me alone for months, and
sometimes always with me. I have seen him, at sea,
come gliding in the dead of night along the bright re-
flection of the moon in the calm water ; and I have seen
him, on quays and market-places, with his hand uplifted,
towering the centre of a busy crowd, unconscious of the
terrible form that had its silent stand among them.
Fancy ! Are you real ? Am I ? Are these iron fetters,
riveted on me by the smith's hammer, or are they fancies
1 can shatter at a blow ? "
The blind man listened in silence.
" Fancy ! Do I fancy that I killed him ? Do I fancy
that as I left the chamber where he lay, I saw the face
of a man peeping from a dark door, who plainly showed
me by his fearful looks that he suspected what I had
done P Do I remember that I spoke fairly to him — that
I drew nearer — nearer yet; — with the hot knife in my
sleeve ? Do I fancy how he died ? Did he stagger back
into the angle of the wall into which I had hemmed him,
and, bleeding inwardly, stand, not fall, a corpse before
me? Did I see him, for an instant, as I see you now,
erect and on his feet — but dead 1"
The blind man, who knew that he had risen, motioned
him to sit down again upon his bedstead ; but he took no
notice of the gesture.
" It was then I thought, for the first time, of fastening
the murder upon him. It was then I dressed him in my
BARNABY RUDGE.
78
clothes, and dragged him down the back-stairs to the
piece of water. Do I remember listening to the bub-
bles that came rising up when I had rolled him in ? Do
I remember wiping the water from my face, and because
the body splashed it there, in its descent, feeling as if it
must be blood ?
" Did I go home when I had done ? And oh, my
Clod! how long it took to do! Did I stand before my
wife, and tell her ? Did I see her fall upon the ground;
and, when I stooped to raise her, did she thrust me back
with a force that cast me off as if I had been a child,
staining the hand wffh which she clasped my wrist ? Is
thai fancy ? ! '*
" Did she go down upon her knees, and call on Heaven
to witness that she and her unborn child renounced me
from that hour; and did she, in words so solemn that
they turned me cold — me, fresh from the horrors my
own hands had made — warn me to fly while there was
time; for though she would be silent, being my wretched
wife, she would riot shelter me ? Did I go forth that
night, abjured of God and man, and anchored deep in
hell, to wander at my cable's length about the earth, and
surely be drawn down at last ?"
" Why did you return ? " said the blind man.
" Why is blood red ? I could no more help it, than I
could live without breath. I struggled against the im-
pulse; but I was drawn back, through every difficult and
adverse circumstance, as by a mighty engine. Nothing
could stop me. The day and hour were none of my
choice. Sleeping and waking, I had been among the
old haunts for years — had visited my own grave. Why
did I come back ? Because this jail was gaping for me,
and he stood beckoning at the door."
74
BARNABY RUDGE.
" You were not known ? " said the blind man.
" I was a man who had been twenty-two years dead.
No. I was not known."
" You should have kept your secret better."
" My secret ? Mine ? It was a secret, any breath of
air could whisper at its will. The stars had it in their
twinkling, the water in its flowing, the leaves in their
rustling, the seasons in their return. It lurked in
strangers' faces, and their voices. Everything had lips
on which it always trembled. — My secret!"
" It was revealed by your own act at any rate," said
the blind man. •
" The act was not mine. I did it, but it was not mine.
I was forced at times to wander round, and round, and
round that spot. If you had chained me up when the
fit was on me, I should have broken away, and gone
there. As truly as the loadstone draws iron towards it,
so he, lying at the bottom of his grave, could draw me
near him when he would. Was that fancy? Did I like
to go there, or did I strive and wrestle with the power
that forced me ? "
The blind man shrugged his shoulders, and smiled in-
credulously. The prisoner again resumed his old atti-
tude, and for a long time both were mute.
" I suppose then," said his visitor, at length breaking
silence, " that you are penitent and resigned; that you
desire to make peace with everybody (in particular, with
your wife who has brought you to this) ; and that you
ask no greater favor than to be carried to Tyburn as
soon as possible ? That being the case, I had better
take my leave. I am not good enough to be com-
pany for you."
" Have I not told you," said the other fiercely, " that
BARXABY RUDGE.
75
I have striven and wrestled with the power that brought
me here ? Has my whole life, for eight-and-twenty years,
been one perpetual struggle and resistance, and do you
think I want to lie down and die ? Do all men shrink
from death — I most of all! "
" That's better said. That's better spoken, Rudge
but I'll not call you that again — than anything you
have said yet," returned the blind man, speaking more
familiarly, and laying his hand upon his arm. " Look-
ye, — I never killed a man myself, for I have never
been placed in a position that made it worth my while.
Further, I am not an advocate for killing men, and I
don't think I should recommend it or like it — for it's
very hazardous — under any circumstances. But as you
had the misfortune to get into this trouble before I made
your acquaintance, and as you have been my companion,
and have been of use to me for a long time now, I over-
look that part of the matter, and am only anxious that
you shouldn't die unnecessarily. Now, I do not consider
that, at present, it is at all necessary."
" What else is left me ? " returned the prisoner. " To
eat my way through these walls with my teeth?"
" Something easier than that," returned his friend.
" Promise me that you will talk no more of these fancies
of yours — idle, foolish things, quite beneath a man —
and I'll tell you what I mean."
" Tell me," said the other.
" Your worthy lady with the tender conscience ; your
scrupulous, virtuous, punctilious, but not blindly affec-
tionate wife " —
" What of her ? "
" Is now in London."
" A curse upon her, be she where she may !"
76
BARNABY RUD6E.
44 That's natural enough. If she had taken her an-
nuity as usual, you would not have been here, and we
should have been better off. But that's apart from the
business. She's in London. Scared, as I suppose, and
have no doubt, by my representation when I waited upon
her, that you were close at hand (which I, of course,
urged only as an inducement to compliance, knowing that
she was not pining to see you), she left that place, and
travelled up to London."
44 How do you know ? "
"From my friend the noble captain — the illustrious
general — the bladder, Mr. Tappertit. I learnt from
him the last time I saw him, which was yesterday, that
your son who is called Barnaby — not after his father I
suppose " —
44 Death ! does that matter now ! "
—44 You are impatient," said the blind man calmly;
44 it's a good sign, and looks like life — that your son
Barnaby had been lured away from her by one of his
companions who knew him of old, at Chigwell; and that
he is now among the rioters."
44 And what is that to me ? If father and son be
hanged together what comfort shall I find in that? "
44 Stay — stay, my friend," returned . the blind man,
with a cunning look, 44 you travel fast to journeys' ends.
Suppose I track my lady out, and say thus much : 4 You
want your son, ma'am — good. I, knowing those who
tempt him to remain among them, can restore him to
you, ma'am — good. You must pay a price, ma'am, for
his restoration — good again. The price is small, and
easy to be paid — dear ma'am, that's best of all.'"
44 What mockery is this ? "
"Very likely, she may reply in those words, 'No
BARNABY RUDGE.
77
mockery at all,' I answer: 'Madam, a person said to
be your husband (identity is difficult of proof after the
lapse of many years) is in prison, his life in peril —
the charge against him, murder. Now, ma'am, your hus-
band has been dead a long, long time. The gentleman
never can be confounded with him, if you will have the
goodness to say a few words, on oath, as to when he died,
and how; and that this person (who I am told resembles
him in some degree) is no more he than I am. Such
testimony will set the question quite at rest. Pledge
yourself to me to give it, ma'am, and I will undertake
to keep your son (a fine lad) out of harm's way until
you have done this trifling service, when he shall be
delivered up to you, safe and sound. On the other
hand, if you decline to do so, I fear he will be betrayed,
and handed over to the law, which will assuredly sen-
tence him to suffer death. It is, in fact, a choice between
his life and death. If you refuse, he swings. If you
comply, the timber is not grown, nor the hemp sown, that
shall do him any harm.' "
" There is a gleam of hope in this!" cried the pris-
oner.
"A gleam!" returned his friend, " a noon-blaze ; a full
and glorious daylight. Hush ! I hear the tread of dis-
tant feet. Rely on me."
« When shall I hear more ? "
" As soon as I do. I should hope, to-morrow. They
are coming to say that our time for talk is over. I hear
the jingling of the keys. Not another word of this just
now, or they may overhear us."
As he said these words, the lock was turned, and one
of the prison turnkeys appearing at the door, announced
that it was time for visitors to leave the jail.
78
BARNABY RUDGE.
" So soon ! " said Stagg, meekly. " But it can't be
helped. Cheer up, friend. This mistake will soon be
set at rest, and then you are a man again ! If this
charitable gentleman will lead a blind man (who has
nothing in return but prayers) to the prison-porch, and
set him with his face towards the west, he will do a
worthy deed. Thank you, good sir. I thank you very
kindly."
So saying, and pausing for an instant at the door to
turn his grinning face towards his friend, he departed.
When the officer had seen him to the porch, he re-
turned, and again unlocking and unbarring the door of
the cell, set it wide open, informing its inmate that he
was at liberty to walk in the adjacent yard, if he thought
proper, for an hour.
The prisoner answered with a sullen nod; and being
left alone again, sat brooding over what he had heard,
and pondering upon the hopes the recent conversation
had awakened; gazing abstractedly, the while he did
so, on the light without, and watching the shadows
thrown by one wall on another, and on the stone-paved
ground.
It was a dull, square yard, made cold and gloomy by
high walls, and seeming to chill the very sunlight. The
stone, so bare, and rough, and obdurate, filled even him
with longing thoughts of meadow-land and trees ; and
with a burning wish to be at liberty. As he looked,
he rose, and leaning against the door-post, gazed up at
the bright blue sky, smiling even on that dreary home
of crime. He seemed, for a moment, to remember lying
on his back in some sweet-scented place, and gazing at
it through moving branches, long ago.
His attention was suddenly attracted by a clanking
BAKNABY RUDGE.
7S
sound — he knew what it was, for he had startled him-
self by making the same noise in walking to the- door.
Presently a voice began to sing, and he saw the shadow
of a figure on the pavement. It stopped — was silent
all at once, as though the person for a moment had for-
gotten where he was, but soon remembered—and so,
with the same clanking noise, the shadow disappeared.
He walked out into the court and paced it to and
fro ; startling the echoes, as he went, with the harsh
jangling of his fetters. There was a door near his,
which, like his, stood ajar.
He had not taken half a dozen turns up and down
the yard, when, standing still to observe this door, he
heard the clanking sound again. A face looked out of
the grated window — he saw it very dimly, for the cell
was dark and the bars were heavy — and directly after-
wards, a man appeared, and came towards him.
For the sense of loneliness he had, he might have
been in the jail a year. Made eager by the hope of
companionship, he quickened his pace, and hastened to
meet the man half way —
What was this ! His son !
They stood face to face, staring at each other. He
shrinking and cowed, despite himself; Barnaby strug-
gling with his imperfect memory, and wondering where
lie had seen that face before. He was not uncertain
long, for suddenly he laid hands upon him, and striv-
i.ig to bear him to the ground, cried : —
" Ah ! I know ! You are the robber ! "
He said nothing in reply at first, but held down his
head, and struggled with him silently. Finding the
younger man too strong for him, he raised his face,
.ooked close into his eyes, and said : —
80
BARNABY RUDGE.
" I am your father."
God knows what magic the name had for his earn;
but Barnaby released his hold, fell back, and looked
at him aghast. Suddenly he sprung towards him, put
his arms about his neck, and pressed his head against
his cheek.
Yes, yes, he was; he was sure he was. But where
had he been so long, and why had he left his mother
by herself, or worse than by herself, with her poor
foolish boy ? And had she really been as happy as
they said. And where was she ? Was she near there ?
She was not happy now, and he in jail ? Ah, no.
Not a word was said in answer; but Grip croaked
loudly, and hopped about them, round and round, as if
enclosing them in a magic circle, and invoking all the
powers of mischief.
BARNABY RUDQE.
81
CHAPTER LXIII.
During the whole of this day, every regiment in or
near the metropolis was on duty in one or other part of
the town ; and the regulars and militia, in obedience to
the orders which were sent to every barrack and station
within twenty-four hours' journey, began to pour in by
all the roads. But the disturbances had attained to such
a formidable height, and the rioters had grown, with im-
punity, to be so audacious, that the sight of this great
force, continually augmented by new arrivals, instead of
operating as a check, stimulated them to outrages of
greater hardihood than any they had yet committed;
and helped to kindle a flame in London, the like of
which had never been beheld, even in its ancient and
rebellious times.
All yesterday, and on this day likewise, the com-
mander-in-chief endeavored to arouse the magistrates
to a sense of their duty, and in particular the Lord
Mayor, who was the faintest-hearted and most timid of
them all. With this object, large bodies of the soldiery
were several times despatched to the Mansion House to
await his orders : but as he could, by no threats or perl
suasions, be induced to give any, and as the men re-
mstined in the open street, fruitlessly for any good pur-
pose, and thrivingly for a very bad one; these laudable
attempts did harm rather than good. For the crowd,
becoming speedily acquainted with the Lord Mayor's
voi.. in. 6
82
BARNABY RUDGE.
temper, did not fail to take advantage of it by boast-
ing that even the civil authorities were opposed to the
Papists, and could not find it in their hearts to molest
those who were guilty of no other offence. These vaunts
they took care to make within the hearing of the sol-
diers ; and they, being naturally loath to quarrel with the
people, received their advances kindly enough : answer-
ing, when they were asked if they desired to fire upon
their countrymen, " No, they would be damned if they
did; " and showing much honest simplicity, and good-
nature. The feeling that the military were No Popery
men, and were ripe for disobeying orders and joining the
mob, soon became very prevalent in consequence. Ru-
mors of their disaffection, and of their leaning towards
the popular cause, spread from mouth to mouth with
astonishing rapidity; and whenever they were drawn
up idly in the streets or squares, there was sure to be
a crowd about them, cheering, and shaking hands, and
treating them with a great show of confidence and af-
feci ion.
By this time, the crowd was everywhere ; all conceal-
ment and disguise were laid aside, and they pervaded the
whole town. If any man among them wanted money,
he had but to knock at the door of a dwelling-house, or
walk into a shop, and demand it in the rioters' name ;
and his demand was instantly complied with. The
peaceable citizens being afraid to lay hands upon them,
singly and alone, it ma}' be easily supposed that when
gathered together in bodies, they were perfectly secure
from interruption. They assembled in the streets, trav-
ersed theui at their will and pleasure, and publicly con-
certed their plans. Business was quite suspended ; the
greater part of the shops were closed; most of the
BARNABY RUDGE.
83
houses displayed a blue flag in token of their adher
ence to the popular side ; and even the Jews in Hounds-
ditch, White-chapel, and those quarters, wrote upon their
doors or window-shutters " This House is a True Prot-
estant." The crowd was the law, and never was the,
law held in greater dread, or more implicitly obeyed.
It was about six o'clock in the evening, when a vast
mob poured into Lincoln's Inn Fields by every avenue,
and divided — evidently in pursuance of a previous de-
sign — into several parties. It must not be understood
that this arrangement was known to the whole crowd,
but that it was the work of a few leaders; who, min-
gling with the men as they came upon the ground, and
calling to them to fall into this or that party, effected
it as rapidly as if it had been determined on by a coun-
eil of the whole number, and every man had known his
place.
It was perfectly notorious to the assemblage that the
largest body, which comprehended about two thirds of
the whole, was designed for the attack on Newgate. It
comprehended all the rioters who had been conspicuous
in any of their former proceedings; all those whom they
recommended as daring hands and fit for the work ; all
those whose companions had been taken in the riots; and
a great number of people who were relatives or friends
of felons in the jail. This last class included, not only
the most desperate and utterly abandoned villains in Lon-
don, but some who were comparatively innocent. There
was more than one woman there, disguised in man's at-
lire, and bent upon the rescue of a child or brother.
There were the two sons of a man who lay under sen-
tence of death, and who was to be executed along with
three others, on the next day but one. There was a
84
BARNABY RUDGE.
great party of boys whose fellow pickpockets were in
the prison; and at the skirts of all, a score of miser-
able women, outcasts from the world, seeking to release
some other fallen creature as miserable as themselves,
or moved by a general sympathy perhaps — God knows
— with all who were without hope, and wretched.
Old swords, and pistols without ball or powder; sledge
hammers, knives, axes, saws, and weapons pillaged from
the butchers' shops; a forest of iron bars and wooden
clubs; long ladders for scaling the walls, each canned on
the shoulders of a dozen men; lighted torches; tow
smeared with pitch, and tar, and brimstone; staves
roughly plucked from fence and paling; and even
crutches taken from crippled beggars in the streets;
composed their arms. When all was ready, Hugh and
Dennis, with Simon Tappertit between them, led the
way. Roaring and chafing like an angry sea, the crowd
pressed after them.
Instead of going straight down Holborn to the jail,
as all expected, their leaders took the way to Clerken-
well, and pouring down a quiet street, halted before a
locksmith's house — the Golden Key.
" Beat at the door," cried Hugh to the men about
him. " We want one of his craft to-night. Beat it in,
if no one answers."
The shop was shut. Both door and shutters were of
a strong and sturdy kind, and they knocked without
effect. But the impatient crowd raising a cry of " Set
fire to the house !" and torches being passed to the front,
an upper window was thrown open, and the stout old
locksmith stood before them.
" What now, you villains !" he demanded. " Where
is my daughter ? "
BARNABY RUDGE.
8j
"Ask no questions of us, old man," retorted Hugh,
waving his comrades to be silent, " but come down, and
bring the tools of your trade. We want you."
" Want me! " cried the locksmith, glancing at the regi-
mental dress he wore: " Ay, and if some that I could
name possessed the hearts of mice, ye should have had
me long ago. Mark me, my lad — and you about him
do the same. There are a score among ye whom I see
now and know, who are dead men from this hour. Be-
gone! and rob an undertaker's while you can ! You'll
want some coffins before long."
" Will you come down ? " cried Hugh.
" Will you give me my daughter, ruffian ? " cried the
locksmith.
" I know nothing of her," Hugh rejoined. " Burn the
door 1"
" Stop !" cried the locksmith, in a voice that made
them falter — presenting, as he spoke, a gun. " Let an
old man do that. You can spare him better."
The young fellow who held the light, and who was
stooping down before the door, rose hastily at these
words, and fell back. The locksmith ran his eye along
the upturned faces, and kept the weapon levelled at the
threshold of his house. It had no other rest than his
shoulder, but was as steady as the house itself.
" Let the man who does it, take heed to his prayers,"
he said firmly ; " I warn him."
Snatching a torch from one who stood near him,
Hugh was stepping forward with an oath, when he was
arrested by a shrill and piercing shriek, and, looking up-
ward, saw a fluttering garment on the house-top.
There was another shriek, and another, and then a
shrill voice cried, " Is Simmun below !" At the same
86
BARNABY RUDGE.
moment a lean neck was stretched over the parapet, and
Miss Miggs, indistinctly seen in the gathering gloom of
evening, screeched in a frenzied manner, " Oh ! dear
gentlemen, let me hear Simmun's answer from his own
lips. Speak to me, Simmun. Speak to me ! "
Mr. Tappertit, who was not at all flattered by' this
compliment, looked up, and bidding her hold her peace,
ordered her to come down and open the door, for they
wanted her master, and would take no denial.
" Oh good gentlemen ! " cried Miss Miggs. " Oh my
own precious, precious Simmun " —
" Hold your nonsense, will you ! " retorted Mr. Tap-
pertit; " and come down and open the door. — G. Var-
den, drop that gun, or it will be worse for you."
" Don't mind his gun," screamed Miggs. " Simmun
and gentlemen, I poured a mug of table-beer right down
the barrel."
The crowd gave a loud shout, which was followed by
a roar of laughter.
"It wouldn't go off, not if you was to load it up to the
muzzle," screamed Miggs. " Simmun and gentlemen,
I'm locked up in the front attic, through the little door
on the right hand when you think you've got to the very
top of the stairs — and up the flight of corner steps,
being careful not to knock your heads against the rafters,
and not to tread on one side in case you should fall into
the two-pair bedroom through the lath and plasture,
which do not bear, but the contrairy. Simmun and
gentlemen, I've been locked up here for safety, but my
endeavors has always been, and always will be, to be on
the right side — the blessed side — and to pronounce
the Pope of Babylon, and all her inward and her out-
ward workings, which is Pagin. My sentiments is of
BARNABY RUDGE.
87
little consequences, I know," cried Miggs, with additional
shrillness, " for my positions is but a servant, and as
sich, of humilities, still I gives expressions to my feel-
ings, and places my reliances on them which entertains
my own opinions ! "
Without taking much notice of these outpourings of
Miss Miggs after she had made her first announcement
in relation to the gun, the crowd raised a ladder against
the window where the locksmith stood, and notwithstand-
ing that he closed, and fastened, and defended it man-
fully, soon forced an entrance by shivering the glass and
breaking in the frames. After dealing a few stout blows
about him, he found himself defenceless, in the midst of
a furious crowd, which overflowed the room and softened
off in a confused heap of faces at the door and window.
They were very wrathful with him (for he had
wounded two men), and even called out to those in
front, to bring him forth and hang him on a lamp-post.
But Gabriel was quite undaunted, and looked from
Hugh and Dennis, who held him by either arm, to
Simon Tappertit, who confronted him.
" You have robbed me of my daughter," said the lock-
smith, " who is far dearer to me than my life; and you
may take my life, if you will. I bless God that I have
been enabled to keep my wife free of this scene; and
that He has made me a man who will not ask mercy at
such hands as yours."
'• And a wery game old gentleman you are," said Mr.
Dcnni i, approvingly ; " and you express yourself like a
man. What's the odds, brother, whether it's a lamp-post
to-night, or a feather-bed ten year to come, eh ? "
The locksmith glanced at him disdainfully, but re-
turned no other answer.
68
BARNABY RUD6E.
"For my part," said the hangman, who particularly
favored the lamp-post suggestion, "I honor your prin-
ciples. They're mine exactly. In such sentiments as
them," and here he emphasized his discourse with an
oath, " I'm ready to meet you or any man half way. —
Have you got a bit of cord anywheres handy ? Don't
put yourself out of the way, if you haven't. A hand-
keclier will do."
" Don't be a fool, master," whispered Hugh, seizing
Varden roughly by the shoulder; " but do as you're bid.
You'll soon hear what you're wanted for. Do it !"
" I'll do nothing at your request, or that of any scoun-
drel here," returned the locksmith. "If you want any
service from me, you may spare yourselves the pains of
telling me what it is. I tell you, beforehand, I'll do
nothing for you."
Mr. Dennis was so affected by this constancy on the
part of the stanch old man, that he protested — almost
with tears in his eyes — that to balk his inclinations
would be an act of cruelty and hard dealing to which he,
for one, never could reconcile his conscience. The gen-
tleman, he said, had avowed in so many words that he
was ready for working off; such being the case, he con-
sidered it their duty, as a civilized and enlightened
crowd, to work him off. It was not often, he observed,
that they had it in their power to accommodate them-
selves to the wishes of those from whom they had the
misfortune to differ. Having now found an individual
who expressed a desire which they could reasonably in-
dulge, (and for himself he was free to confess that in his
opinion that desire did honor to his feelings,) he hoped
they would decide to accede to his proposition before
going any farther. It was an experiment which, skil-
BARNABY RUDGE.
89
fully and dexterously performed, would be over in five
minutes, with great comfort and satisfaction to all par-
ties ; and though it did not become him (Mr. Dennis) to
Bpeak well of himself, he trusted he might be allowed to
say that he had practical knowledge of the subject, and,
being naturally of an obliging and friendly disposition,
would work the gentleman off with a deal of pleasure.
These remarks, which were addressed in the midst of
a frightful din and turmoil to those immediately about
him, were received with great favor; not so much, per-
haps, because of the hangman's eloquence, as on account
of the locksmith's obstinacy. Gabriel was in imminent
peril, and he knew it; but he preserved a steady
silence; and would have done so, if they had been
debating whether they should roast him at a slow fire.
As the hangman spoke, there was some stir and con-
fusion on the ladder; and directly he was silent — so
immediately upon his holding his peace, that the crowd
below had no time to learn what he had been saying, or
to shout in response — some one at the window cried: —
" He has a gray head. He is an old man : don't hurt
him!"
The locksmith turned, with a start, towards the place
from which the words had come, and looked hurriedly
at the people who were hanging on the ladder and
clinging to each other.
" Pay no respect to my gray hair, young man," he said,
answering the voice and not any one he saw. " I don't
ask it. My heart is green enough to scorn and despise
every man among you, band of robbers that you are! "
This incautious speech by no means tended to appease
the ferocity of the crowd. They cried again to have
him brought out; and it would have gone hard with the
90
BARNABY BUDGE.
honest locksmith, but that Hugh reminded them in an-
swer, that they wanted his services, and must have them.
" So, tell him what we want," he said to Simon Tap-
pertit, "and quickly. And open your ears, master, if
you would ever use them after to-night."
Gabriel folded his arms, which were now at liberty,
and eyed his old 'prentice in silence.
'■ Lookye, Yarden," said Sim, " we're bound for New-
' gate."
' " I know you are," returned the locksmith. " You
never said a truer word than that."
" To burn it down, I mean," said Simon, " and force
the gates, and set the prisoners at liberty. You helped
to make the lock of the great door."
" I did," said the locksmith. " You owe me no thanks
for that — as you'll find before long."
"Maybe," returned his journeyman, "but you must
show us how to force it."
"Must I!"
" Yes; for you know, and I don't. You must come
along with us, and pick it with your own hands."
" When I do," said the locksmith quietly, " my hands
shall drop off at the wrists, and you shall wear them,
Simon Tappertit, on your shoulders for epaulettes."
" We'll see that," cried Hugh, interposing, as the in-
dignation of the crowd again burst forth. " You fill a
basket with the tools he'll want, while I bring him down-
stairs. Open the doors below, some of you. And light
the great captain, others 1 Is there no business afoot,
my lads, that you can do nothing but stand and grum-
ble ? "
They looked at one another, and quickly dispersing,
swarmed over the house, plundering and breaking, ac-
BARNABY RUDGE.
91
cording to their custom, and carrying off such articles of
value as happened to please their fancy. They had no
great length of time for these proceedings, for the basket
of tools was soon prepared and slung over a man's shoul-
dors. The preparations being now completed, and every-
thing ready for the attack, those who were pillaging and
destroying in the other rooms were called down to the
workshop. They were about to issue forth, when the
man who had been last up-stairs, stepped forward, and
asked if the young woman in the garret (wl c was
making a terrible noise, he said, and kept on screaming
without the least cessation) was to be released ?
For his own part, Simon Tappertit would certainly
have replied in the negative, but the mass of his com-
panions, mindful of the good service she had done in the
matter of the gun, being of a different opinion, he had
nothing for it but to answer, Yes. The man, accord-
ingly, went back again to the rescue, and presently re-
turned with Miss Miggs, limp and doubled up, and very
damp from much weeping.
As the young lady had given no tokens of conscious-
ness on their way down-stairs, the bearer reported her
either dead or dying ; and being at some loss what to do
with her, was looking round for a convenient bench or
heap of ashes on which to place her senseless form, when
she suddenly came upon her feet by some mysterious
means, thrust back her hair, stared wildly at Mr. Tap-
pertit, cried "My Simmuns's life is not a wictim ! " and
dropped into his arms with such promptitude that he
staggered and reeled some paces back, beneath his lovely
burden.
" Oh bother !" said Mr. Tappertit. " Here. Catch
hold of her, somebody. Lock her up again ; she never
sught to have been let out."
92
BARNABY RUDGE.
" My Simmun!" cried Miss Miggs, in tears, and
faintly. " My forever ever blessed Simmun ! "
" Hold up, will you," said Mr. Tappertit, in a very
unresponsive tone, "I'll let you fall if you don't. What
are you sliding your feet off the ground for ? "
" My angel Simmuns !" murmured Miggs —"he prom-
had" —
" Promised! Well, and I'll keep my promise," an-
swered Simon, testily. "I mean to provide for you,
don't I ? Stand up ! "
" Where am I to go ? What is to become of me
after my actions of this night!" cried Miggs. " What
resting-places now remains but in the silent tombses!"
" I wish you was in the silent tombses, I do," cried
Mr. Tappertit, " and boxed up tight, in a good strong
one. Here," he cried to one of the by-standers, in whose
ear he whispered for a moment. " Take her off, will
you. You understand where ? "
The fellow nodded; and taking her in his arms, not-
withstanding her broken protestations, and her struggles
(which latter species of opposition, involving scratches,
was much more difficult of resistance), carried her away.
They who were in the house poured out into the street;
the locksmith was taken to the head of the crowd, and
required to walk between his two conductors; the whole
body was put in rapid motion; and without any shouting
or noise they bore down straight on Newgate, and halted
in a densi mass before the prison-gate.
BARNABY BUDGE.
93
CHAPTER LXIV.
Breaking the silence they had hitherto preserved,
they raised a great cry as soon as they were ranged be-
fore the jail, and demanded to speak with the governor.
Their visit was not wholly unexpected, for his house,
which fronted the street, was strongly barricaded, the
wicket-gate of the prison was closed up, and at no loop-
hole or grating was any person to be seen. Before they
had repeated their summons many times, a man appeared
upon the roof of the governor's house, and asked what it
was they wanted.
Some said one thing, some another, and some only
groaned and hissed. It being now nearly dark, and the]
house high, many persons in the throng were not aware
that any one had come to answer them, and continued
their clamor until the intelligence was gradually diffused
through the whole concourse. Ten minutes or more
elapsed before any one voice could be heard with toler-
able distinctness; during which interval the figure re-
mained perched alone, against the summer-evening sky,
looking down into the troubled street.
" Are you," said Hugh at length, " Mr. Akerman, the
head jailer here ?"
" Of course he is, brother," whispered Dennis. But
Hugh, without minding him, took his answer from the
man himself.
" Yes," he said. " I am."
BARNABY RUDGE.
" You have got some friends of ours in your custody,
master."
" I have a good many people in my custody." He
glanced downward, as he spoke, into the jail: and the
feeling that he could see into the different yards, and
that he overlooked everything which was hidden from
their view by the rugged walls, so lashed and goaded the
mob, that they howled like wolves.
"Deliver up our friends," said Hugh, "and you may
keep the rest."
" It's my duty to keep them all. I shall do my
duty."
"If you don't throw the doors open, we shall break
'em down," said Hugh ; " for we will have the rioters
out."
" All I can do, good people," Akerman replied, " is
to exhort you to disperse; and to remind you that the
consequences of any disturbance in this place, will be
very severe, and bitterly repented by most of you, when
it is too late."
He made as though he would retire when he had said
these words, but he was checked by the voice of the lock-
smith.
" Mr. Akerman," cried Gabriel, " Mr. Akerman."
" I will hear no more from any of you," replied the
governor, turning towards the speaker, and waving his
hand.
" But I am not one of them," said Gabriel. " I am
an honest man, Mr. Akerman ; a respectable tradesman
— Gabriel Varden, the locksmith. You know me ? "
" You among the crowd !" cried the governor in an
altered voice.
" Brought here by force — brought here to pick the
BARNABY RODGE.
95
lock of the great door for them," rejoined the locksmith
" Bear witness for me, Mr. Akerman, that I refuse to do
it; and that I will not do it, come what may of my re-
fusal. If any violence is done to me, please to remem-
ber this."
" Is there no way of helping you ?" said the governor
" None, Mr. Akerman. You'll do your duty, and I'll
do mine. Once again, you robbers and cut-throats," said
the locksmith, turning round upon them, " I refuse. Ah !
Howl till you're hoarse. I refuse."
" Stay — stay ! " said the jailer, hastily. " Mr. Yar-
den, I know you for a worthy man, and one who would
do no unlawful act except upon compulsion " —
" Upon compulsion, sir," interposed the locksmith, who
felt that the tone in which this was said, conveyed the
speaker's impression that he had ample excuse for yield-
ingr to the furious multitude who beset and hemmed him
in, on every side, and among whom he stood, an old man,
quite alone ; " upon compulsion, sir, I'll do nothing."
" Where is that man," said the keeper, anxiously,
" who spoke to me just now ? "
" Here! " Hugh replied.
" Do you know what the guilt of murder is, and that
by keeping that honest tradesman at your side you en-
danger his life ! "
" We know it very well," he answered, "for what else
did we bring him here ? Let's have our friends, master,
and you shall have your friend. Is that fair, lads ? "
The mob replied to him with a loud Hurrah !
" You see how it is, sir ? " cried Varden. " Keep 'em
But, in King George's name. Remember what I have
said. Good-night!"
There was no more parley. A shower of stones and
96
BABNABY RUDGE.
other missiles compelled the keeper of the jail to retire;
and the mob, pressing on, and swarming round the walls,
forced Gabriel Yarden close up to the door.
In vain ihe basket of tools was laid upon the ground
before him, and he was urged in turn by promises, by
blows, by offers of reward, and threats of instant death,
to do the office for which they had brought him there.
" No," cried the sturdy locksmith, " I will not! "
He had never loved his life so well as then, but
nothing could move him. The savage faces that glared
upon him, look where he would ; the cries of those who
thirsted, like wild animals, for his blood; the sight of
men pressing forward, and trampling down their fellows,
as they strove to reach him, and struck at him above the
heads of other men, with axes and with iron bars; all
failed to daunt him. He looked from man to man, anu
face to face, and still, with quickened breath and lessen-
ing color, cried firmly, " I will not! "
Dennis dealt him a blow upon the face which felled
him to the ground. He sprung up again like a man in
the prime of life, and with blood upon his forehead,
caught him by the throat.
" You cowardly dog !" he said. " Give me my daugh-
ter. Give me my daughter."
They struggled together. Some cried " Kill him,"
and some (but they were not near enough) strove to
trample him to death. Tug as he would at the old
man's wrists, the hangman could not force him to un-
clinch his hands.
" Is this all the return you make me, you ungrateful
monster ? " he articulated with great difficulty, and with
many oaths.
" Give me my daughter!" cried the locksmith, who
BARNABY RUDGE.
97
was now as fierce as those who gathered round him:
" Give me my daughter ! "
He was down again, and up, and down once more,
and buffeting with a score of them, who bandied him
from hand to hand, when one tall fellow, fresh from a
slaughter-house, whose dress and great thigh boots
smoked hot with grease and blood, raised a pole-axe, and
swearing a horrible oath, aimed it at the old man's un-
covered head. At that instant, and in the very act, he
fell himself, as if struck by lightning, and over his body
a one-armed man came darting to the locksmith's side.
Another man was with him, and both caught the lock-
smith roughly in their grasp.
" Leave him to us!" they cried to Hugh — struggling,
as they spoke, to force a passage backward through the
crowd. " Leave him to us. Why do you waste your
whole strength on such as he, when a couple of men can
finish him in as many minutes! You lose time. Re-
member the prisoners ! remember Barnaby !"
The cry ran through the mob. Hammers began to
rattle on the walls; and every man strove to reach the
prison, and be among the foremost rank. Fighting their
way through the press and struggle, as desperately as if
they were in the midst of enemies rather than their own'
friends, the two men retreated with the locksmith be-
tween them, and dragged him through the very heart of
the concourse.
And now the strokes began to fall like hail upon the
gate, and on the strong building; for those who could
not reach the door, spent their fierce rage on anything —
even on the great blocks of stone, which shivered their
weapons into fragments, and made their hands and arms
to tingle as if the walls were active in their stout resist-
VOL. IIL 7
98
BARNABY RUDGE.
ance, and dealt I hem back their blows. The clash of
iron ringing upon iron, mingled with the deafening tu-
mult and sounded high above it, as the great sledge-
hammers rattled on the nailed and plated door: the
sparks flew off in showers; men worked in gangs, and
at short intervals relieved each other, that all their
strength might be devoted to the work ; but there stood
the portal still, as grim and dark and strong as ever, and,
saving for the dints upon its battered surface, quite un-
changed.
While some brought all their energies to bear upon
this toilsome task ; and some, rearing ladders against the
prison, tried to clamber to the summit of the walls they
were too short to scale ; and some again engaged a body
of police a hundred strong, and beat them back and trod
them under foot by force of numbers ; others besieged
the house on which the jailer had appeared, and, driving
in the door, brought out his furniture, and piled it up
against the prison gate, to make a bonfire which should
burn it down. As soon as this device was understood,
all those who had labored hitherto, cast down their tools
and helped to swell the heap ; which reached half-way
across the street, and was so high, that those who threw
more fuel on the top, got up by ladders. When all the
keeper's goods were flung upon this costly pile, to the
last fragment, they smeared it with the pitch, and tar,
and rosin they had brought, and sprinkled it with turpen-
tine. To all the woodwork round the prison-doors they
did the like, leaving not a joist or beam untouched.
This infernal christening performed, they fired the pile
with lighted matches and with blazing tow, and then
stood by, awaiting the result.
The furniture being very dry, and rendered more com-
BARNABY RUDGE.
99
bustible by wax and oil, besides the arts they had used
took fire at once. The flames roared high and fiercely,
blackening the prison wall, and twining up its lofty
front like burning serpents. fJ^t first, they crowded
round the blaze, and vented their exultation only in
their looks ; but when it grew hotter and fiercer — when
it crackled, leaped, and roared, like a great furnace—'
when it shone upon the opposite houses, and lighted up
not only the pale and wondering faces at the windows,
but the inmost corners of each habitation — when,
through the deep red heat and glow, the fire was seen
sporting and toying with the door, now clinging to its
obdurate surface, now gliding off with fierce inconstancy
and soaring high into the sky, anon returning to fold it
in its burning grasp and lure it to its ruin — when it
shone and gleamed so brightly that the church clock of
St. Sepulchre's, so often pointing to the hour of death,
was legible as in broad day, and the vane upon its stee-
pie-top glittered in the unwonted light like something
richly jewelled — when blackened stone, and sombre
brick grew ruddy in the deep reflection, and windows
shone like burnished gold, dotting the longest distance in
the fiery vista with their specks of brightness — when
wall and tower, and roof and chimney-stack, seemed
drunk, and in the flickering glare appeared to reel and
stagger — when scores of objects, never seen before,
burst out upon the view, and things the most familiar
put on some new aspect — then the mob began to join
the whirl, and with loud yells, and shouts, and clamor,
such as happily is seldom heard, bestirred themselves to
feed the fire, and keep it at its height.
Although the heat was so intense that the paint on
the houses over against the prison, parched and crackled
100
BARNABY RUDGE.
up, and swelling into boils, as it were, from excess of
torture, broke and crumbled away ; although the glass
fell from the window-sashes, and the lead and iron on
the roofs blistered the incautious hand that touched
them, and the sparrows in the eaves took wing, and ren-
dered giddy by the smoke, fell fluttering down upon the
blazing pile ; still the fire was tended unceasingly by
busy hands, and round it, men were going always.
They never slackened in their zeal, or kept aloof, but
pressed upon the flames so hard, that those in front had
much ado to save themselves from being thrust in; if
one man swooned or dropped, a dozen struggled for his
place, and that, although they knew the pain, and thirst,
and pressure to be unendurable. Those who fell down
in fainting-fits, and were not crushed or burnt, were car-
ried to an inn-yard close at hand, and dashed with water
from a pump ; of which buckets full were passed from
man to man among the crowd ; but such was the strong
desire of all to drink, and such the fighting to be first,
that, for the most part, the whole contents were spilled
upon the ground, without the lips of one man being
moistened.
Meanwhile, and in the midst of all the roar and out-
cry, those who were nearest to the pile, heaped up again
the burning fragments that came toppling down, and
raked the fire about the door, which, although a sheet of
flame, was still a door fast locked and barred, and kept
I hem out. Great pieces of blazing wood were passed,
besides, above the people's heads to such as stood about
the ladders, and some of these, climbing up to the top-
most stave, and holding on with one hand by the prison
wall, exci ted all their skill and force to cast these fire-
brands on the roof, or down into the yards within. In
BARNABY RUDGE.
101
many instances their efforts were successful; which oc-
casioned a new and appalling addition to the horrors of
the scene ; for the prisoners within, seeing from between
their bars that the fire caught in many places and
thrived fiercely, and being all locked up in strong cells
for the night, began to know that they were in danger
of being burnt alive. This terrible fear, spreading from
cell to cell, and from yard to yard, vented itself in such
dismal cries and wailings, and in such dreadful shrieks
for help, that the whole jail resounded with the noise;
which was loudly heard even above the shouting of the
mob and roaring of the flames, and was so full of agony
and despair, that it made the boldest tremble.
It was remarkable that these cries began in that quar-
ter of the jail which fronted Newgate Street, where
it was well known, the men who were to suffer death ort
Thursday were confined. And not only were these
four who had so short a time to live, the first to whom
the dread of being burnt occurred, but they were,
throughout, the most importunate of all: for they could
be plainly heard, notwithstanding the great thickness of
the walls, crying that the wind set that way, and that
the flames would shortly reach them ; and calling to the
officers of the jail to come and quench the fire from a
cistern which was in their yard, and full of water.
Judging from what the crowd without the walls could
hear from time to time, these four doomed wretches
never ceased to call for help; and that with as much dis-
traction, and in as great a frenzy of attachment to exist-
ence, as though each had an honored, happy life before
him, instead of eight-and-forty hours of miserable im-
prisonment, and then a violent and shameful death.
But the anguish and suffering of the two sons of one
102
BARNABY RUDGE
of these men, when they heard, or fancied that they
heard, their father's voice, is past description. After
wringing their hands and rushing to and fro as if they
were stark mad, one mounted on the shoulders of his
brother, and tried to clamber up the face of the high
wall, guarded at the top with spikes and points of iron.
And when he fell among the crowd, he was not deterred
by his bruises, but mounted up again, and fell again, and,
when he found the feat impossible, began to beat the
stones and tear them with his hands, as if he could that
way make a breach in the strong building, and force a
passage in. At last, they cleft their way among the mob
about the door, though many men, a dozen times their
match, had tried in vain to do so, and were seen, in —
yes, in — the fire, striving to prize it down, with crow-
bars.
Nor were they alone affected by the outcry from with-
in the prison. The women who were looking on,
shrieked loudly, beat their hands together, stopped their
ears ; and many fainted : the men who were not near
the walls and active in the siege, rather than do nothing,
tore up the pavement of the street, and did so with a
haste and fury they could not have surpassed if that had.
been the jail, and they were near their object. Not one
living creature in the throng was for an instant still.
The whole great mass were mad.
A shout! Another ! Another yet, though few knew
why, or what it . meant. But those around the gate
had seen it slowly yield, and drop from its topmost
hinge. It hung on that side by but one, but it was up-
right still, because of the bar, and its having sunk, of
its own weight, into the heap of ashes at its foot. There
was now a gap at the top of the door-way, through which
BARNABY RUDGE.
could be descried a gloomy passage, cavernous und dark.
Pile up the fire 1
It burnt fiercely. The door was red-hot, and the
gap wider. They vainly tried to shield their faces with
their hands, and standing as if in readiness for a spring,
watched the place. Dark figures, some crawling on
their hands and knees, some carried in the arms of
others, were seen to pass along the roof. It was plain
the jail could hold out no longer. The keeper, and his
officers, and their wives and children, were escaping.
Pile up the fire!
The door sank down again: it settled deeper in the
cinders — tottered — yielded — was down !
As they shouted again, they fell back, for a moment,
and left a clear space about the fire that lay between
them and the jail entry. Hugh leaped upon the blaz-
ing heap, and scattering a train of sparks into the air,
and making the dark lobby glitter with those that hung
upon his dress, dashed into the jail.
The hangman followed. And then so many rushed
upon their track, that the fire got trodden down and
thinly strewn about the street; but there was no need
of it now, for, inside and out, the prison was in flames.
BARNABY KUDGK.
CHAPTER LXV.
During the whole course of the terrible scene whici
was now at its height, one man in the jail suffered
degree of fear and mental torment which had no par-
allel in the endurance even of those who lay undei
sentence of death.
When the rioters first assembled before the building,
the murderer was roused from sleep — if such slumbers
as his may have that blessed name — by the roar of
voices, and the struggling of a great crowd. He started
up as these sounds met his ear, and sitting on his bed-
stead, listened.
After a short interval of silence the noise burst out
again. Still listening attentively, he made out, in
course of time, that the jail was besieged by a furious
multitude. His guilty conscience instantly arrayed these
men against himself, and brought the fear upon him
that he would be singled out, and torn to pieces.
Once impressed with the terror of this conceit, every-
thing tended to confirm and strengthen it. His double
crime, the circumstances under which it had been com-
mitted, the length of time that had elapsed, and its dis-
covery in spite of all, made him as if it were, the visible
object of the Almighty's wrath. In all the crime and
vice and moral gloom of the great pest-house of the
capital, he stood alone, marked and singled out by his
great guilt, a Lucifer among the devils. The other
V"
BARNABY RUDGE.
105
prisoners were a host, hiding and sheltering each other
— a crowd like that without the walls. He was one
man against the whole united concourse; a single, soli'
tary lonely man, from whom the very captives in the
jail fell off and shrunk appalled.
It might be that the intelligence of his capture hav«
ing been bruited abroad, they had come there pur-
posely to drag him out and kill him in the street; or
it might be that they were the rioters, and, in pur-
suance of an old design, had come to sack the prison.
But in either case he had no belief or hope that they
would spare him. Every shout they raised, and every
sound they made, was a blow upon his heart. As the
attack went on, he grew more wild and frantic in his
terror: tried to pull away the bars that guarded the
chimney and prevented him from climbing up: called
loudly on the turnkeys to cluster round the cell and
save him from the fury of the rabble ; or put him in
some dungeon underground, no matter of what depth,
how dark it was, or loathsome, or beset with rats and
creeping things, so that it hid him and was hard to
find.
But no one came, or answered him. Fearful, even
while he cried to them, of attracting attention, he was
silent. By and by, he saw, as he looked from his
grated window, a strange glimmering on the stone walls
and pavement of the yard. It was feeble at first, and
came and went, as though some officers with torches
were passing to and fro upon the roof of the prison.
Soon it reddened, and lighted brands came whirling
down, spattering the ground with fire, and burning sul-
lenly in corners. One rolled beneath a wooden bench,
and set it in a blaze; another caught a water-spout, and
106
BARNAUY RUDGE.
so went climbing up the wall, leaving a long straight
track of fire behind it. After a time, a slow thick
shower of burning fragments, from some upper portion
of the prison which was blazing nigh, began to fall be-
fore his door. Remembering that it opened outwards,
he knew that every spark which fell upon the heap,
and in the act lost its bright life, and died an ugly
speck of dust and rubbish, helped to entomb him in
a living grave. Still, though the jail resounded with
shrieks and cries for help, — though the fire bounded
up as if each separate flame had had a tiger's life, and
roared as though, in every one, there were a hungry
voice — though the heat began to grow intense, and the
air suffocating, and the clamor without increased, and
the danger of his situation even from one merciless
element was every moment more extreme, — still he
was afraid to raise his voice again, lest the crowd should
break in, and should, of their own ears or from the in-
formation given them by the other prisoners, get the
clew to his place of confinement. Thus fearful alike,
of those within the prison and of those without; of noise
and silence ; light and darkness ; of being released, and
being left there to die ; he was so tortured and tor-
mented, that nothing man has ever done to man in the
'horrible caprice of power and cruelty, exceeds his self-
'inflicted punishment.
Now, now, the door was down. Now they came rush-
ing through the jail, calling to each other in the vaulted
passages ; clashing the iron gates dividing yard from
yard ; beating at the doors of cells and wards; wrench-
ing off" bolts and locks and bars ; tearing down the door-
posts to get men out ; endeavoring to drag them by
main force through gaps and windows where a child
BARNABY RUDGE.
107
could scarcely pass; whooping and yelling without a
moment's rest; and running through the heat ahd flames
as if they were cased in metal. By theirtolegs, their
arms, the hair upon their heads, they dragged the pris-
oners out. Some threw themselves upon the captives
as they got towards the door, and tried to file away their
irons; some danced about them with a frenzied joy and
rent their clothes, and were ready, as it seemed, to tear
them limb from limb. Now a party of a dozen men
came darting through the yard into which the murderer
cast fearful glances from his darkened window ; drag-
ging a prisoner along the ground whose dress they had
nearly torn from his body in their mad eagerness to
set him free, and who was bleeding and senseless in
their hands. Now a score of prisoners ran to and fro,
who had lost themselves in the intricacies of the prison,
and were so bewildered with the noise and glare, that
they knew not where to turn or what to do, and still
cried out for help, as loudly as before. Anon some
famished wretch whose theft had been a loaf of bread,
or scrap of butcher's meat, came skulking past, bare-
footed — going slowly away because that jail, his house,
was burning; not because he had any other, or had
friends to meet, or old haunts to revisit, or any liberty
to gain, but liberty to starve and die. And then a knot
of highwaymen went trooping by, conducted by the
friends they had among the crowd, who muffled their
fetters as they went, along, with handkerchiefs and bands
of hay, and wrapped them in coats and cloaks, and gave
them drink from bottles, and held it to their lips, oe-
cause of their handcuffs which there was no time to
remove. All this, and Heaven knows how much more,
was done amidst a noise, a hurry, and distraction, like
108
BARNABY RUDGE.
nothing that we know of, even in our dreams; which
seemed fq^ever on the rise, and never to decrease for
the space,tof a single instant.
He was still looking down from his window upon
these things, when a band of men with torches, lad-
ders, axes, and many kinds of weapons, poured into the
yard, and hammering at his door, inquired if there were
any prisoner within. He left the window when he saw
them coming, and drew back into the remotest corner
of the cell; but although he returned them no answer,
they had a fancy that some one was, inside, for they
presently set ladders against it, and began to tear
away the bars at the casement; not only that, indeed,
but with pickaxes to hew down the very stones in the
wall.
As soon as they had made a breach at the window,
large enough for the admission of a man's head, one of
them thrust in a torch and looked all round the room.
He followed this man's gaze until it rested on himself,
and heard him demand why he had not answered, bu'
made him no reply.
In the general surprise and wonder, they were used to
this; without saying anything more, they enlarged the
breach until it was large enough to admit the body of a
man, and then came dropping down upon the floor, one
after another, until the cell was full. They caught him
up among them, handed him to the window, and those
who stood upon the ladders passed him down upon the
pavement of the yard. Then the rest came out, one
after another, and, bidding him fly, and lose no time, or
the way would be choked up, hurried away to rescue
others.
It seemed not a minute's work from first to last. He
BABNABY BUDGE.
109
staggered to his feet incredulous of what had happened,
when the yard was filled again, and a crowd rushed on,
hurrying Barnaby among them. In another minute —
not so much: another minute ! the same instant, with no
lapse or interval between ! — he and his son were being
passed from hand to hand, through the dense crowd in
the street, and were glancing backward at a burning pile
which some one said was Newgate.
From the moment of their first entrance into the
prison, the crowd dispersed themselves about it, and
swarmed into every chink and crevice, as if they had a
perfect acquaintance with its innermost parts, and bore
in their minds an exact plan of the whole. For this
immediate knowledge of the place, they were, no doubt,
in a great degree indebted to the hangman, who stood in
the lobby, directing some to go this way, some that, and
some the other; and who materially assisted in bringing
about the wonderful rapidity with which the release of
the prisoners was effected.
But this functionary of the law reserved one impor-
tant piece of intelligence, and kept it snugly to himself.
When he had issued his instructions relative to every
other part of the building, and the mob were dispersed
from end to end, and busy at their work, he took a
bundle of keys from a kind of cupboard in the wall, and
going by a private passage near the chapel (it joined the
governor's house, and was then on fire), betook himself
to the condemned cells, which were a series of small,
strong, dismal rooms, opening on a low gallery, guarded,
at the end at which he entered, by a strong iron wicket,
and at its opposite extremity by two doors and a thick
grate. Having double-locked the wicket, and assured
nimself that the other entrances were welf secured, he
110
BABNABY BUDGE.
sat down on a bench in the gallery, and sucked the head
of his stick, with an air of the utmost complacency, tran-
quillity, and contentment.
It would have been strange enough, a man's enjoying
himself in this quiet manner, while the prison was burn-
ng, and such a tumult was cleaving the air, though he
had been outside the walls. But here, in the very heart
of the building, and moreover with the prayers and cries
of the four men under sentence sounding in his ears, and
thoir hands, stretched out through the gratings in their
cell doors, clasped in frantic entreaty before his very
eyes, it was particularly remarkable. Indeed, Mr. Den-
nis appeared to think it an uncommon circumstance, and
to banter himself upon it; for he thrust his hat on one
side as some men do when they are in a waggish humor,
sucked the head of his stick with a higher relish, and
smiled as though he would say, " Dennis, you're a rum
dog; you're a queer fellow ; you're capital company,
Dennis, and quite a character 1"
He sat in this way for some minutes, while the four
men in the cells, certain that somebody had entered the
gallery, but could not see who, gave vent to such piteous
entreaties as wretches in their miserable condition may
be supposed to have been inspired with: urging, who-
ever it was, to set them at liberty, for the love of Heav-
en ; and protesting, with great fervor, and truly enough,
perhaps, for the time, that if they escaped, they would
amend their ways, and would never, never, never again
do wrong before God or man, but would lead penitent
and sober lives, and sorrowfully repent the crimes they
had committed. The terrible energy with which they
spoke, would have moved any person, no matter how
good or just (if any good or just person could have
BARNABY RUDGE.
Ill
strayed into that sad place that night), to have set them
at liberty ; and, while he would have left any other pun-
ishment to its free course, to have saved thein from this
last dreadful and repulsive penalty ; which never turned
a man inclined to evil, and has hardened thousands who
were half inclined to good.
Mr. Dennis, who had been bred and nurtured in the
good old school, and had administered the good old laws
on the good old plan, always once and sometimes twice
every six weeks, for a long time, bore these appeals with
a deal of philosophy. Being at last, however, rather
disturbed in his pleasant reflection by their repetition,
he rapped at one of the doors with his stick, and
cried: —
" Hold your noise there, will you ? "
At this they all cried together that they were to be
hanged on the next day but one ; and again implored
his aid.
"Aid! For what!" said Mr. Dennis, playfully rap-
ping the knuckles of the hand nearest him.
" To save us!" they cried.
" Oh, certainly," said Mr. Dennis, winking at the wall
in the absence of any friend with whom he could humor
the joke. "And so you're to be worked off, are you
brothers ? "
" Unless we are released to-night," one of them cried,
M we are dead men !"
" I tell you what it is," said the hangman, gravely;
" I'm afraid my friend that you're not in that 'ere state
of ruind that's suitable to your condition, then ; you're
not a-going to be released: don't think it —«- Will you
'eave off that 'ere indecent row ? I wonder you a'n't
ashamed of yourselves, I do."
112
BARNA.BY BUDGE.
He followed up this reproof by rapping every set of
knuckles one after the other, and having done so, re-
sumed his seat again with a cheerful countenance.
" You've had law," he said, crossing his legs and ele-
vating his eyebrows : " laws have been made a' purpose
for you; a wery handsome prison's been made a' pur-
pose for you ; a parson's kept a' purpose for you ; a con-
stitootional officer's appointed a' purpose for you ; carts
is maintained a' purpose for you — and yet you're not
contented ! — Will you hold that noise, you sir in the
farthest ? "
A groan was the only answer.
" So well as I can make out," said Mr. Dennis, in a
tone of mingled badinage and remonstrance, " there's
not a man among you. I begin to think I'm on the
opposite side, and among the ladies; though for the mat-
ter of that, I've seen a many ladies face it out, in a man-
ner that did honor to the sex. — You in number two,
don't grind them teeth of yours. Worse manners," said
the hangman, rapping at the door with his stick, "I
never see in this place afore. I'm ashamed on you^
You're a disgrace to the Bailey."
After pausing for a moment to hear if anything could
be pleaded in justification, Mr. Dennis resumed in a sort
of coaxing tone: —
" Now look'ee here, you four. I'm come here to take
care of you, and see that you a'n't burnt, instead of the
other thing. It's no use your making any noise, for you
won't be found out by them as has broken in, and you'll
only be hoarse when you come to the speeches, — which
fs a pity. What I say in respect to the speeches always
is, 4 Give it mouth.' That's my maxim. Give it mouth.
I've heerd," said the hangman, pullirig off" his hat to take
BARNABY BUDGE.
113
his handkerchief from the crown and wipe his face, and
then putting it on again a little more on one side than
before, " I've heerd a eloquence on them boards — you
know what boards I mean — and have heerd a degree
of mouth given to them speeches, that they was as clear
as a bell, and as good as a play. There's a pattern'
And always, when a thing of this natur's to come off
what I stand up for, is, a proper frame of mind. Let's
have a proper frame of mind, and we can go through
with it, creditable — pleasant — sociable. Whatever you
do, (and I address myself, in particular, to you in the
farthest), never snivel. I'd sooner by half, though I
lose by it, see a man tear his clothes a' purpose to
spile 'em before they come to me, than find him sniv-
elling. It's ten to one a better frame of mind, every
way !"
While the hangman addressed them to this effect, in
the tone and with the air of a pastor in familiar conver-
sation with his flock, the noise had been in some degree
subdued; for the rioters were busy in conveying the
prisoners to the Sessions House, which was beyond the
main walls of the prison, though connected with it, and
the crowd were busy too, in passing them from thence
along the street. But when he had got thus far in his
discourse, the sound of voices in the yard showed plainly!
that the mob had returned and were coming that way ;
and directly afterwards a violent crashing at the grate
below, gave note of their attack upon the cells (as they
were called) at last.
It was in vain the hangman ran from door to door,
and covered the grates, one after another, with his hat,
in futile efforts to stifle the cries of the four men within i
U was in vain he dogged their outstretched hands, and
VOL. III. 8
114
BARNABY RUDGE.
beat them with his stick, or menaced them with new and
lingering pains in the execution of his office ; the place
resounded with their cries. These, together with the
feeling that they were now the last men in the jail, so
worked upon and stimulated the besiegers, that in an
incredibly short space of time they forced the strong
grate down below, which was formed of iron rods two
inches square, drove in the two other doors, as if they
had been but deal partitions, and stood at the end of
the gallery with only a bar or two between them and
the cells.
" Holloa!" cried Hugh, who was the first to look into
the dusky passage : " Dennis before us ! Well done, old
boy. Be quick, and open here, for we shall be suffocated
in the smoke, going out."
" Go out at once, then," said Dennis. " What do you
want here ? "
" Want!" echoed Hugh. " The four men."
"Four devils!" cried the hangman. "Don't you know
they're left for death on Thursday ? Don't you respect
the law — the constitootion — nothing ? Let the four
, „ m*
men be.
" Is this a time for joking ? " cried Hugh. " Do you
hear 'em ? Pull away these bars that have got fixed
between the door and the ground; and let us in."
" Brother," said the hangman, in a low voice, as he
stooped under pretence of doing what Hugh desired,
but only looked up in his face, " can't you leave these
here four men to me, if I've the whim! You do what
you like, and have what you like of everything for your
share, — give me my share. I want these four men left
alone, 1 tell you ! "
" Pull the bars down, or stand out of the way," was
Hugh's reply.
BARNABY RUD6E.
115
" You can turn the crowd if you like, you know
that well enough, brother," said the hangman, slowly.
" What! You will come in, will you ? "
" Yes."
" You won't let these men alone, and leave 'em to
me? You've no respect for nothing—haven't you?"
said the hangman, retreating to the door by which he
had entered, and regarding his companion with a scowl.
" You will come in, will you, brother ! "
'■ I tell you ye-. What the devil ails you? Where
are you going ? "
" No maiter where I'm going," rejoined the hangman,
looking in again at the iron wicket, which he had nearly
shut upon himself, and held ajar. " Remember where
you're coming. That's all! "
With that, he shook his likeness at Hugh, and giving
him a grin, compared with which his usual smile was
amiable, disappeared and shut the door.
Hugh paused no longer, but goaded alike by the cries
of the convicts, and by the impatience of the crowd,
warned the man immediately behind him — the way
was only wide enough for one abreast — to stand back,
and wielded a sledge-hammer with such strength, that
after a few blows the iron bent and broke, and gave
them free admittance.
If the two sons of one of these men, of whom men-
tion has been made, were furious in their zeal before,
they had now the wrath and vigor of lions. Calling to
the man within each cell, to keep as far back as he
could, lest the axes crashing through the door should
wound him. a party went to work upon each one, to
beat it in by sheer strength, and force the bolts and
staples from their hold. But although these two lads
BARNABY RUDGE.
had the weakest party, and the worse armed, and did
not begin until after the others, having stopped to whis-
per to him through the grate, that door was the first
open, and that man the first out. As they dragged him
into the gallery to knock off his irons, he fell down
among them, a mere heap of chains, and was carried
out in that state on men's shoulders with no sign of
life.
The release of these four wretched creatures, and con-
veying them, astounded and bewildered, into the street
so full of life — a spectacle they had never thought to
see again, until they emerged from solitude and silence
upon that last journey, when the air should be heavy
with the pent-up breath of thousands, and the streets
and houses should be built and roofed with human faces,
not with bricks and tiles and stones — was the crowning
horror of the scene. Their pale and haggard looks, and
hollow eyes; their staggering feet, and hands stretched
out as if to save themselves from falling; their wander-
ing and uncertain air; the way they heaved and gasped
for breath, as though in water, when they were first
plunged into the crowd; all marked them for the men.
No need to say " this one was doomed to die;" there
were the words broadly stamped and branded on his
face. The crowd fell off, as if they had been laid out
for burial, and had risen in their shrouds; and many
were seen to shudder, as though they had been actually
dead men, when they chanced to touch or brush against
their garments.
At the bidding of the mob, the houses were all illumi-
nated that night — lighted up from top to bottom as at a
time of public gayety and joy. Many years afterwards,
old people who lived in their youth near this part of the
BARN APT RUDGE.
117
city, remembered being in a great glare of light, within
doors and without, and as they looked, timid and fright-
ened children, from the windows, seeing a face go by.
Though the whole great crowd and all its other terrors
had faded from their recollection, this one object re-
mained ; alone, distinct, and well-remembered. Even
in the unpractised minds of infants, one of these doomed
men, darting past, and but an instant seen, was an im-
age of force enough to dim the whole concourse ; to
find itself an all-absorbing place, and hold it ever after.
When this last task had been achieved, the shouts and
cries grew fainter; the clank of fetters, which had re-
sounded on all sides as the prisoners escaped, was heard
no more; all the noises of the crowd subsided into a
hoarse and sullen murmur as it passed into the distance;
and when the human tide had rolled away, a melancholy
heap of smoking ruins marked the spot where it had
lately chafed and roared.
118
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER LXYI.
Although he had had no rest upon the previous
night, and had watched with little intermission for some
weeks past, sleeping only in the day by starts and
snatches, Mr. Haredale, from the dawn of morning until
sunset, sought his niece in every place where he deemed
it possible she could have taken refuge. All day long,
nothing, save a draught of water, passed his lips; though
he prosecuted his inquiries far and wide, and never so
much as sat down, once.
In every quarter he could think of; at Chigwell and
in London; at the houses of the tradespeople with whom
he dealt, and of the friends he knew ; he pursued his
search, A prey to the most harrowing anxieties and
apprehensions, he went from magistrate to magistrate,
and finally to the Secretary of State. The only comfort
he received was from this minister, who assured him that
the Government, being now driven to the exercise of the
extreme prerogatives of the Crown, were determined to
exert them ; that a proclamation would probably be out
upon the morrow, giving to the military, discretionary
and unlimited power in the suppression of the riots; that
the sympathies of the King, the Administration, and both
Houses of Parliament, and indeed of all good men of
every religious persuasion, were strongly with the in-
jured Catholics; and that justice should be done them
at any cost or hazard. He told him, moreover, that
BARNABY RUDGE.
119
other persons whose houses had been burnt, had for a
time lost sight of their children or their relatives, but
had in every case, within his knowledge, succeeded in
discovering them; that his complaint should be remem-
bered, and fully stated in the instructions given to the
officers in command, and to all the inferior myrmidons
of justice ; and that everything that could be done to
help him, should be done with a good-will and in good
faith.
Grateful for this consolation, feeble as it was in its
reference to the past, and little hope as it afforded him
in connection with the subject of distress which lay near-
est to his heart; and really thankful for the interest the
minister expressed, and seemed to feel, in his condition ;
Mr. Haredale withdrew. He found himself with the
night coming on, alone in the streets; and destitute of
any place in which to lay his head.
He entered an hotel near Charing Cross, and ordered
Borne refreshment and a bed. He saw that his faint and
worn appearance attracted the attention of the landlord
ind his waiters; and thinking that they might suppose
him to be penniless, took out his purse, and laid it on the
table. It was not that, the landlord said, in a faltering
voice. If he were one of those who had suffered by the
rioters, he durst not give him entertainment. He had a
family of children, and had been twice warned to l»e
careful in receiving guests. He heartily prayed his
forgiveness, but what could he do ?
Nothing. No man felt that more sincerely than Mr.
Haredale. He told the man as much, and left the
house.
Feeling that he might have anticipated this occur-
rence, after what he had seen at Chigwell in the morn-
120
BARNABY BUDGE.
ing, where no man dared to touch a spade, though he
offered a large reward to all who would come and dig
among the ruins of his house, he walked along the
Strand; too proud to expose himself to another re-
fusal, and of too generous a spirit to involve in dis-
tress or ruin any honest tradesman who might be weak
enough to give him shelter. He wandered into one of
the streets by the side of the river, and was pacing in
a thoughtful manner up and down, thinking of things
that had happened long ago, when he heard a servant-
man at an upper window call to another on the opposite
side of the street, that the mob were setting fire to New-
gate.
To Newgate! where that man was! His failing
strength returned, his energies came back with tenfold
vigor, on the instant. If it were possible — if they
should set the murderer free — was he, after all he
had undergone, to die with the suspicion of having
slain his own brother, dimly gathering about him —
He had no consciousness of going to the jail; but
there he stood, before it. There was the crowd, wedged
and pressed together in a dense, dark, moving mass;
and there were the flames soaring up into the air. His
head turned round and round, lights flashed before his
eyes, and he struggled hard with two men.
" Nay, nay," said one. " Be more yourself, my good
sir. We attract attention here. Come away. What
can you do among so many men?"
" The gentleman's always for doing something," said
the other, forcing him along as he spoke. "I like him
for that. I do like him for that."
They had by this time got him into a court, hard by
the prison. He looked from one to the other, and as he
BARNABY RUDGE.
1-21
tried to release himself, felt that he tottered on his feet.
He who had spoken first, was the old gentleman whom
he had seen at the Lord Mayor's. The other was John
Grueby, who had stood by him so manfully at West-
minster.
" What does this mean ?" he asked them faintly
" How came we together ? "
" On the skirts of the crowd," returned the distiller;
"but come with us. Pray come with us. You seem
to know my friend here ?"
" Surely," said Mr. Haredale, looking in a kind of
stupor at John.
" He'll tell you then," returned the old gentleman,
" that I am a man to be trusted. He's my servant. He
was lately (as you know, I have no doubt) in Lord
George Gordon's service ; but he left it, and brought,
in pure good-will to me and others, who are marked by
the rioters, such intelligence as he had picked up of
their designs." i . .
— " On one condition, please, sir," said John, touching
his hat. " No evidence against my lord — a misled man
— a kind-hearted man, sir. My lord never intended
this."
" The condition will be observed, of course," rejoined
the old distiller. " It's a point of honor. But come with
us, sir ; pray come with us."
John Grueby added no entreaties, but he adopted a
different kiud of persuasion, by putting his arm through
one of Mr. Haredale's, while his master took the other,
and leading him away with all speed.
Sensible, from a strange lightness in his head, and
a difficulty in fixing his thoughts on anything, even to
the extent of bearing his companions in his mind for a
122
BARNABY RUDGF..
minute together without looking at them, that his brain
was affected by the agitation and suffering through which
he had passed, and to which he was still a prey, Mr.
Haredale let them lead him where they would. As they
went along, he was conscious of having no command over
what he said or thought, and that he had a fear of going
mad.
The distiller lived, as he had told him when they first
met, on Holborn Hill, where he had great storehouses,
and drove a large trade. They approached his house by
a back entrance, lest they should attract the notice of the
crowd, and went into an upper room which faced towards
the street; the windows, however, in common with those
of every other room in the house, were boarded up in-
side, in order, that, out of doors, all might appear quite
dark. >
They laid him on a sofa in this chamber, perfectly in-
sensible ; but John immediately fetching a surgeon, who
took from him a large quantity of blood, he gradually
came to himself As he was, for the time, too weak to
walk, they had no difficulty in persuading him to remain
there all night, and got him to bed without loss of a
minute. That done, they gave him cordial and some
toast, and presently a pretty strong composing-draught,
under the influence of which he soon fell into a lethargy,
and, for a time, forgot his troubles.
The vintner, who was a very hearty old fellow and a
worthy man, had no thoughts of going to bed himself, for
he had received several threatening warnings from the
O C
rioters, and had indeed gone out that evening to try and
gather from the conversation of the mob whether his
house was to be the next attacked. He sat all night in
an easy-chair in the same room — dozing a little now
barnaby rudge.
123
and then — and received from time to time the reports
of John Grueby and two or three other trustworthy
persons in his employ, who went out into the streets as
scouts ; an'd for whose entertainment an ample allowance
of good cheer (which the old vintner, despite his anxiety,
now and then attacked himself) was set forth in an ad-
v joining chamber.
These accounts were of a sufficiently alarming nature
from the first; but as the night wore on, they grew so
much worse, and involved such a fearful amount of riot
and destruction, that in comparison with these new tid-
ings all the previous disturbances sunk to nothing.
The first intelligence that came, was of the taking of
Newgate, and the escape of all the prisoners, whose
track, as they made up Holborn and into the adjacent
streets, was proclaimed to those citizens who were shut
up in their houses, by the rattling of their chains, which
formed a dismal concert, and was heard in every direc-
tion, as though so many forges were at work. The
flames too, shone so brightly through the vintner's sky-
lights, that the rooms and staircases below were nearly
as light as in broad day ; while the distant shouting of
the mob seemed to shake the very walls and ceilings.
At length they were heard approaching the house, and
some minutes of terrible anxiety ensued. They came
close up, and stopped before it; but after giving three
loud yells, went on. And although they returned sev-
eral times that night, creating new alarms each time,
they did nothing there; having their hands full. Shortly
after they had'gone away for the first time, one of the
scouts came running in with the news that they had
Stopped before Lord Mansfield's house in Bloomsbury
Square.
124
BARNABY EtJDGE.
Soon afterwards there came another, and another, and
then the first returned again, and so, by little and little,
their tale was this: — That the mob gathering round
Lord Mansfield's house, had called on those within to
open the door, and receiving no reply (for Lord and
Lady Mansfield were at that moment escaping by the
back-way), foi-ced an enti-ance according to their usual
custom. That they then began to demolish the house
with great fury, and setting fire to it in several parts,
involved in a common ruin the whole of the costly furni-
ture, the plate and jewels, a beautiful gallery of pictures,
the rarest collection of manuscripts ever possessed by
any one private person in the woi-ld, and worse than all,
because nothing could replace this loss, the great Law
Library, on almost every page of which were notes in
the Judge's own hand, of inestimable value,— being the
results of the study and experience of his whole life.
That while they were howling and exulting round the
fire, a troop of soldiers, with a magistrate among them,
came up, and being too late (for the mischief was by that
time done), began to disperse the crowd. That the riot
act being read, and the crowd still resisting, the soldiers
leceived orders to fire, and levelling their muskets shot
dead at the first discharge six men and a woman, and
wounded many person?; and loading again directly, fired
another volley, but over the people's heads it was sup-
posed, as none were seen to fall. That thereupon, and
daunted by the shrieks and tumult, the crowd began to
disperse, and the soldiers went away, leaving the killed
and wounded on the ground : which they had no sooner
done than the rioters came back again, and taking up the
dead bodies, and the wounded people, formed into a rude
procession, having the bodies in the front. That in this
BARNABY RUDGE.
123
order, they paraded off with a horrible merriment; fixing
weapons in the dead men's hands to make them look as
if alive ; and preceded by a fellow ringing Lord Mans-
field's dinner-bell with all his might.
The scouts reported further, that this party meeting
with some others who had been at similar work else-
where, they all united into one, and drafting off a few
men with the killed and wounded, marched away to
Lord Mansfield's country-seat at Caen Wood, between
Hampstead and Highgate; bent upon destroying that
house likewise, and lighting up a great fire there, which
from that height should be seen all over London. But
in this they were disappointed, for a party of horse hav-
ing arrived before them, they retreated faster than they
went, and came straight back to town.
There being now a great many parties in the streets,
each went to work according to its humor, and a dozen
houses were quickly blazing, including those of Si* John
Fielding and two other justices, and four in Holborn —
one of the greatest thoroughfares in London — which
were all burning at the same time, and burned until they
went out of themselves, for the people cut the engine
hose, and would not suffer the firemen to play upon the
flames. At one house near Moorfields, they found in
one of the rooms some canary birds in cages, and these
they cast into the fire alive. The poor little creatures
screamed, it was said, like infants, when they were flung
upon the blaze; and one man was so touched that he
tried in vain to save them, which roused the indignation
of the crowd, and nearly cost him his life.
At this same house, one of the fellows who went
through the rooms, breaking the furniture and helping to
destroy the building, found a child's doll —? a poor toy —
126
BARNABY RUDGE.
which he exhibited at the window to the mob below, as
the image of some unholy saint which the late occupants
had worshipped. While he was doing this, another man
with an equally tender conscience (they had both been
foremost in throwing down the canary birds for roasting
alive), took his seat on the parapet of the house, and
harangued the crowd from a pamphlet circulated by the
Association, relative to the true principles of Christian-
ity ! Meanwhile the Lord Mayor, with his hands in his
pockets, looked on as an idle man might look at any
other show, and seem mightily satisfied to have got a
good place.
Such were the accounts brought to the old vintner by
his servants as he sat at the side of Mr. Haredale's bed,
having been unable even to doze, after the first part of
the night; too much disturbed by his own fears ; by the
cries of the mob, the light of the fires, and the firing of
the soldiers. Such, with the addition of the release of
all the prisoners in the New Jail at Clerkenwell, and as
many robberies of passengers in the streets, as the crowd
had leisure to indulge in, were the scenes of which Mr.
Haredale was happily unconscious, and which were all
enacted before midnight.
BARNABY RUDGE.
127
CHAPTER LXYn.
When darkness broke away and morning began to
dawn, the town wore a strange aspect indeed.
Sleep had scarcely been thought of all night". The
general alarm was so apparent in the faces of the in-
habitants, and its expression was so aggravated by want
of rest (few persons, with any property to lose, having
dared to go to bed since Monday), that a stranger com-
ing into the streets would have supposed some mortal
pest or plague to have been raging. In place of the
usual cheerfulness and animation of morning, everything
was dead and silent. The shops remained unclosed,
offices and warehouses were shut, the coach and chair
stands were deserted, no carts or wagons rumbled
through the slowly waking streets, the early cries were
all hushed; a universal gloom prevailed. Great num-
bers of people were out, even at daybreak, but they
flitted to and fro as though they shrank from the sound
of their own footsteps; the public ways were haunted
rather than frequented; and round the smoking ruing
people stood apart from one another and in silence, not
venturing to condemn the rioters, or to be supposed to
do so, even in whispers.
At the Lord President's in Piccadilly, at Lambeth
Palace, at the Lord Chancellor's in Great Ormond
Street, in the Royal Exchange, the Bank, the Guildhall,
the Inns of Court, the Courts of Law, and every cham-
128
BABNABY RUDGE.
ber fronting the streets near Westminster Hall and the
Houses of Parliament, parties of soldiers were posted
before daylight. A body of Horse-Guards paraded
Palace-yard; an encampment was formed in the Park,
where fifteen hundred men and five battalions of Militia
were under arms; the Tower was fortified, the draw-
bridges were raised, the cannon loaded and pointed, and
two regiments of artillery busied in strengthening the
fortress and preparing it for defence. A numerous de-
tachment of soldiers were stationed to keep guard at the
New-River Head, which the people had threatened to
attack, and where, it was said, they meant to cut off the
main-pipes, so that there might be no water for the ex-
tinction of the flames. In the Poultry, and on Cornhill,
and at several other leading points, iron chains were
drawn across the street; parties of soldiers were distrib-
uted in some of the old city churches while it was yet
dark; and in several private houses (among them Lord
Rockingham's in Grosvenor Square); which were block-
aded as though to sustain a siege, and had guns pointed
from the windows. When the sun rose, it shone into
handsome apartments filled with armed men ; the furni-
ture hastily heaped away in corners, and made of little
or no account, in the terror of the time — on arms glit-
tering in city chambers, among desks and stools, and
dusty books — into little smoky church-yards in odd
lanes and by-ways, with soldiers lying down among the
tombs, or lounging under the shade of the one old tree,
nnd their pile of muskets sparkling in the light — on
solitary sentries pacing up and down in court-yards,
silent now, but yesterday resounding with the din and
hum of business — everywhere on guard-rooms, gar-
risons, and threatening preparations.
BARNABY RUDGE.
129
As the day crept on, still more unusual sights were
wituessed in the streets. The gates of the King's Bench
and Fleet Prisons being opened at the usual hour, were
found to have notices affixed to them, announcing that
the rioters would come that night to burn them down.
The "Wardens, too well knowing the likelihood there
was of this promise being fulfilled, were fain to set their
prisoners at liberty, and give them leave to move their
goods; so, all day, such of them as had any furniture
were occupied in conveying it, some to this place, some
to that, and not a few td the brokers' shops, where they
gladly sold it for any wretched price those gentry chose
to give. There were some broken men among these
debtors who had been in jail so long, and were so miser-
able and destitute of friends, so dead to the world, and
utterly forgotten and uncared for, that they implored
their jailers not to set them free, and to send them, if
need were, to some other place of custody. But they,
refusing to comply, lest they should incur the anger of
the mob, turned them into the streets, where they wan-
dered up and down hardly remembering the ways un-
trodden by their feet so long, and crying — such abject
things those rotten-hearted jails had made them — as
they slunk off in their rags, and dragged their slipshod
feet along the pavement.
Even of the three hundred prisoners who had escaped
fiom Newgate, there were some — a few, but there
were some — who sought their jailers out and delivered
themselves up : preferring imprisonment and punishment
to the horrors of such another night as the last. Many
of the convicts, drawn back to their old place of cap-
tivity by some indescribable attraction, or by a desire
to exult over it in its downfall and glut their revenge
vol.. hi. 9
130
BARNABY BUDGE.
by seeing it in ashes, actually went back in broad no<
and loitered about the cells. Fifty were retaken at 01
time on this next day, within the prison walls; but the
fate did not deter others, for there they went in sgi
of everything, and there they were taken in twos ai
threes, twice or thrice a day, all through the wee
Of the fifty just mentioned, some were occupied
endeavoring to rekindle the fire; but in general th<
seemed to have no object in view but to prowl ai
lounge about the old place; being often found asle<
in the ruins, or sitting talking there, or even eating at
drinking, as in a choice retreat.
Besides the notices on the gates of the Fleet and tl
King's Bench, many similar announcements were le
before one o'clock at noon, at the houses of private ii
dividuals; and further, the mob proclaimed their intei
tion of seizing on the Bank, the Mint, the Arsenal
Woolwich, and the Royal Palaces. The notices we:
seldom delivered by more than one man, who, if
were at a shop, went in, and laid it, with a blooc
threat perhaps, upon the counter; or if it were at
private house, knocked at the door, and thrust it
the servant's hand. Notwithstanding the presence <
the military in every quarter of the town, and tl
great force in the Park, these messengers did the
errands with impunity all through the day. So d
two boys who went down Holborn alone, armed wil
bars taken from the railings of Lord Mansfield's hous
and demanded money for the rioters. So did a Ui
man on horseback who made a collection for the san
purpose in Fleet Street, and refused to take anythir
but gold.
A rumor had now got into circulation, too, whic
BARNABY RUDGE.
131
diffused a greater dread all through London, even than
these publicly announced intentions of the rioters, though
all men knew that if they were successfully effected,
there must ensue a national bankruptcy and general
ruin. It was said that they meant to throw the gates
of Bedlam open, and let all the madmen loose. This
suggested such dreadful images to the people's minds,
and was in deed and act so fraught with new and un-
imaginable horrors in the contemplation, that it beset
them more than any loss or cruelty of which they could
foresee the worst, and drove many sane men nearly
mad themselves.
So the day passed on: the prisoners moving their
goods; people running to and fro in the streets, carry-
ing away their property; groups standing in silence
round the ruins ; all business suspended; and the sol-
diers disposed as has been already mentioned, remaining
quite inactive. So the day passed on, and dreaded night
drew near again.
At last, at seven o'clock in the evening, the privy
council issued a solemn proclamation that it was now
necessary to employ the military, and that the officers
had most direct and effectual orders, by an immediate
exertion of their utmost force to repress the distur-
bances; and warning all good subjects of the king to
keep themselves, their servants, and apprentices, with-
in doors that night. There was then delivered out to
every soldier on duty, thirty-six rounds of powder and
ball; the drums beat; and the whole forco was under
arms at sunset.
The city authorities, stimulated by those vigorous
measures, held a common council; passed a vote thank-
ing the military associations who had tendered their
132
BARNABY RUDGE.
aid to the civil authorities ; accepted it; and placed them
under the direction of the two sheriff;. At the queen's
palace, a double guard, the yeomen on duty, the groom-
porters, and all other attendants, were stationed in the
passages and on the staircases at seven o'clock, with
strict instructions to be watchful on their posts all night;
and all the doors were locked. The gentlemen of the
Temple, and the other Inns, mounted guard within their
gates, and strengthened them with the great stones of the
pavement, which they took up for the purpose. In Lin-
coin's Inn, they gave up the hall and commons to the
Northumberland militia, under the command of Lord
Algernon Percy; in some few of the city wards, the
burgesses turned out, and without making a very fierce
show, looked brave enough. Some hundreds of stout
gentlemen threw themselves, armed to the teeth, into
the halls of the different companies, double-locked and
bolted all the gates, and dared the rioters (among them
selves) to come on at their peril. These arrangements
being all made simultaneously, or nearly so, were com-
pleted by the time it got dark; and then the streets
were comparatively clear, and were guarded at all the
great corners and chief avenues by the troops: while
parties of the officers rode up and down in all direc-
tions, ordering chance stragglers home, and admonish-
ing the residents to keep within their houses, and, if any
tiring ensued, not to approach the windows. More chains
were drawn across such of the thoroughfares as were of
a nature to favor the approach a great crowd, and
at each of these points a considerable force was sta-
tioned. All these precautions having been taken and
it being now quite dark, those in comma 111 awaited tV.
result in some anxiety : and not without a hope that
BARNABY RUDGE.
133
Buch vigilant demonstrations might of themselves dis-
hearten the populace, and prevent any new outrages.
But in this reckoning they were cruelly mistaken, for
in half an hour, or less, as though the setting in of night
had been their preconcerted signal, the rioters having
previously, in small parties, prevented the lighting of
the street-lamps, rose like a great sea; and that in so
many places at once, and with such inconceivable fury,
that those who had the direction of the troops knew
not, at first, where to turn or what to do. One after an-
other, new fires blazed up in every quarter of the town,
as though it were the intention of the insurgents to wrap
the city in a circle of flames, which, contracting by
degrees, should burn the whole to ashes; the crowd
swarmed and roared in every street; and none but
rioters and soldiers being out of doors, it seemed to the
latter as if all London were arrayed against them, and
they stood alone against the town.
In two hours, six-and-thirty fires were raging —
six-and-thirty great conflagrations. Among them the
Borough Clink in Tooley-street, the King's Bench, the
Fleet, and the New Bridewell. In almost every street,
there was a battle; and in every quarter the muskets
of the troops were heard above the shouts and tumult
of the mob. The firing began in the Poultry, where
the chain was drawn across the road, where nearly a
score of people were killed on the first discharge. Their
bodies having been hastily carried into St. Mildred's
church by the soldiers, the latter fired again, and fol-
•owing fast upon the crowd, who began to give way
when they saw the execution that was done, formed
across Cheapside, and charged them at the point of the
bayonet.
134
BARNABY BUDGE.
The streets were now a dreadful spectacle. The
shouts of the rabble, the shrieks of women, the cries
of the wounded, and the constant firing formed a deafen-
ing and an awful accompaniment to the sights which
every corner presented. Wherever the road was ob-
structed by the chains, there the fighting and the loss
of life were greatest; but there was hot work and blood-
shed in almost every leading thoroughfare.
At Holborn Bridge, and on Holborn Hill, the con-
fusion was greater than in any other part; for the crowd
that poured out of the city in two great streams, one
by Ludgate Hill, and one by Newgate-street, united at
that spot, and formed a mass so dense, that at every
volley the people seemed to fall in heaps. At this place
a large detachment of soldiery were posted, who fired,
now up Fleet Market, now up Holborn, now up Snow
Hill — constantly raking the streets in each direction.
At this place too, several large fires were burning, so
that all the terrors of that terrible night seemed to be
concentrated in one spot.
Full twenty times, the rioters, headed by one man
who wielded an axe in his right hand, and bestrode a
brewer's horse of great size and strength, caparisoned
with fetters taken out of Newgate, which clanked and
jingled as he went, made an attempt to force a pas-
sage at this point, and fire the vintner's house. Full
twenty times they were repulsed with loss of life, and
still came back again : and though the fellow at their
head was marked and singled out by all, and was a
conspicuous object as the only rioter on horseback, not
a man could hit him. So surely as the smoke cleared
away, so surely there was he; calling hoarsely to his
companions, brandishing his axe above his head, and
BARNABY RUDGE.
135
dashing on as though he bore a charmed life, and was
proof against ball and powder.
lTh is man was Hugh; and in every part of the riot,
he was seen. He headed two attacks upon the Bank,
helped to break open the Toll-houses on Blackfriaro
Bridge, and cast the money into the street: fired two
of the prisons with his own hand: was here, and there,
and everywhere — always foremost — always active —
striking at the soldiers, cheering on the crowd, making
his horse's iron music heard through all the yell and up-
roar: but never hurt or stopped. Turn him at one place,
and he made a new struggle in another; force him to
retreat at this point, and he advanced on that, directly.
Driven from Holborn for the twentieth time, he rode
at the head of a great crowd straight upon Saint Paul's,
attacked a guard of soldiers who kept watch over a
body of prisoners within the iron railings, forced them
to retreat, rescued the men they had in custody, and
with this accession to his party, came back again, mad
with liquor and excitement, and hallooing them on like
a demon.")
It would have been no easy task for the most careful
rider to sit a horse in the midst of such a throng and
tumult; but though this madman rolled upon his back
(he had no saddle) like a boat upon the sea, he never
for an instant lost his seat, or failed to guide him where
he would. Through the very thickest of the press, over
dead bodies and burning fragments, now on the pave-
ment, now in the road, now riding up a flight of steps
to make himself the more conspicuous to his party, and
now forcing a passage through a mass of human beings,
so closely squeezed together that it seemed as if the edge
of a knife would scarcely part them, — on he went, as
136
BARNABY RUD6E.
though he could surmount all obstacles by the mere ex-
ercise of his will. And perhaps his not being shot was
in some degree attributable to this very circumstance:
for his extreme audacity, and the conviction that he
must be one of those to whom the proclamation referred,
inspired the soldiers with a desire to take him alive, and
diverted many an aim which otherwise might have been
more near the mark.
The vintner and Mr. Haredale, unable to sit quietly
listening to the noise without seeing what went on, had
elimbed to the roof of the house, and hiding behind a
stack of chimneys, were looking cautiously down into
the street, almost hoping that after so many repulses the
rioters would be foiled, when a great shout proclaimed
that a party were coming round the other way ; and the
dismal jingling of those accursed fetters warned them
next moment that they too were led by Hugh. The
soldiers had advanced into Fleet Market and were dis-
persing the people there; so that they came on with
hardly any check, and were soon before the house.
" All's over now," said the vintner. " Fifty thousand
pounds will be scattered in a minute. We must save
ourselves. We can do no more, and shall have reason
to be thankful if we do as much."
Their first impulse was, to clamber along the roofs
of the houses, and, knocking at some garret-window for
admission, pass down that way into the street, and so es-
cape. But another fierce cry from below, and a general
upturning of the faces of the crowd, apprised them that
they were discovered, and even that Mr. Haredale was
recognized ; for Hugh, seeing him plainly in the bright
glare of the fire, which in that part made it as light as
day, called to him by his name, and swore to have his
life.
BARNABY RUDGE.
137
" Leave me here," said Mr. Haredale, " and in Heav-
en's name, my good friend, save yourself! Come on ! ";
he muttered, as he turned towards Hugh and faced him
without any further effort at concealment: " This roof is
high, and if we close, we will die together ! "
" Madness," said the honest vintner, pulling him back,
" sheer madness. Hear reason, sir. My good sir, hear
reason. I could never make myself heard by knocking
at a window now ; and even if I could, no one would be
bold enough to connive at my escape. Through the eel-
lars, there's a kind of passage into the back street by
which we roll casks in and out. We shall have time to
get down there, before they can force an entry. Do not
delay an instant, but come with me — for both our sake*
— for mine — my dear good sir !"
As he spoke, and drew Mr. Haredale back, they had
both a glimpse of the street. It was but a glimpse, but
it showed them the crowd, gathering and clustering round
the house : some of the armed men pressing to the front
to break down the doors and windows, some bringing
brands from the nearest fire, some with lifted faces fol-
lowing their course upon the roof and pointing them out
to their companions: all raging and roaring like the
flames they lighted up. They saw some men thirsting
for the treasures of strong liquor which they knew were
stored within ; they saw others, who had been wounded,
sinking down into the opposite doorways and dying, sol-
itary wretches, in the midst of all the vast assemblage;
here, a frightened woman trying to escape ; and there a
lost child ; and there a drunken ruffian, unconscious of
the death-wound on his head, raving and fighting to the
last. All these things, and even such trivial incidents
as a man with his hat off, or turning round, or stooping
188
BARNABY RUDGE.
down, or shaking hands with another, they marked
distinctly; yet in a glance so brief, that, in the act of
stepping back, they lost the whole, and saw but the pale
faces of each other, and the red sky above them.
Mr. Haredale yielded to the entreaties of his com-
panion — more because he was resolved to defend him,
than for any thought he had of his own life, or any care
he entertained for his own safety — and quickly reen-
tering the house, they descended the stairs together.
Loud blows were thundering on the shutters, crowbars
were already thrust beneath the door, the glass fell
from the sashes, a deep light shone through every crev-
ice, and they heard the voices of the foremost in the
crowd so close to every chink and key-hole, that they
seemed to be hoarsely whispering their threats into their
very ears. They had but a moment reached the bottom
of the cellar-steps and shut the door behind them, when
the mob broke in.
The vaults were profoundly dark, and having no torch
or candle — for they had been afraid to carry one, lest
it should betray their place of refuge — they were
obliged to grope with their hands. But they were not
long without light, for they had not gone far when they
heard the crowd forcing the door; and, looking back
among the low-arched passages, could see them in the
distance, hurrying to and fro with flashing links, broach-
ing the casks, staving the great vats, turning off upon
the right hand and the left, into the different cellars, and
lying down to drink at the channels of strong spirits
which were already flowing on the ground.
They hurried on, not the less quickly for this; and
had reached the only vault which lay between them and
the passage out, when suddenly, from the direction in
BARNABY BUDGE.
139
which they were going, a strong light gleamed upon
their faces; and before they could slip aside, or turn
back, or hide themselves, two men (one bearing a torch)
came upon them, and cried in an astonished whisper,
" Here they are ! "
At the same instant they pulled off what they wore
upon their heads. Mr. Haredale saw before him Ed-
ward Chester, and then saw, when the vintner gasped
his name, Joe Willet.
Ay, the same Joe, though with an arm the less, who
used to make the quarterly journey on the gray mare
to pay the bill to the purple-faced vintner; and that
very same purple-faced vintner, formerly of Thames
Street, now looked him in the face, and challenged him
by name.
" Give me your hand," said Joe softly, taking it
whether the astonished vintner would or no. " Don't
fear to shake it; it's a friendly one and a hearty one,
though it has no fellow. Why, how well you look and
how bluff you are 1 And you — God bless you, sir.
Take heart, take heart. We'll find them. Be of good
cheer; we have not been idle."
There was something so honest and frank in Joe's
speech, that M_r. Haredale put his hand in his involun-
tarily, though their meeting was suspicious enough. But
his glance at Edward Chester, and that gentleman's
keeping aloof, were not lost upon Joe, who said bluntly,
glancing at Edward while he spoke : —
" Times are changed, Mr. Haredale, and times have
come when we ought to know friends from enemies,
and make no confusion of names. Let me tell you
that but for this gentleman, you would most likely
have been dead by this time, or badly wounded at the
best."
140
BARNABY RUDGE.
" What do you say ? " asked Mr. Haredale.
" I say," said Joe, " first, that it was a bold thing to
bo in the crowd at all disguised as one of them ; though
I won't say much about that, on second thoughts, for
that's my case too. Secondly, that it was a brave and
glorious action — that's what I call it — to strike that
fellow off his horse before their eyes ! "
" What fellow ! Whose eyes ! "
" What fellow, sir ! " cried Joe : " a fellow who has
no good-will to you, and who' has the daring and dev-
iltry in him of twenty fellows. I know him of old.
Once in the house, he would have found you, here or
anywhere. The rest owe you no particular grudge,
and, unless they see you, will only think of drinking
themselves dead. But we lose time. Are you ready?"
" Quite," said Edward. " Put out the torch, Joe, and
go on. And be silent, there's a good fellow."
" Silent or not silent," murmured Joe, as he dropped
the flaring link upon the ground, crushed it with his
foot, and gave his hand to Mr. Haredale, " it was a
brave and glorious action ; — no man can alter that."
Both Mr. Haredale and the worthy vintner were too
amazed and too much hurried to ask any further ques-
tions. so followed their conductors in silence. It seemed,
from a short whispering which presently ensued between
them and the vintner relative to the best way of escape,
that they had entered by the back-door, with the con-
nivance of John Grueby, who watched outside with the
key in his pocket, and whom they had taken into their
confidence. A part of the crowd coming up that way,
just as they entered, John had double-locked the door
again, and made off for the soldiers, so that means of
retreat was cut from under them. « "'
BARNABY BUDGE.
141
However, as the front-door had been forced, and this
minor crowd being anxious to get at the liquor, had no
fancy for losing time in breaking down another, but had
gone round and got in from Holborn with the rest, the
narrow lane in the rear was quite free of people. So,
when they had crawled through the passage indicated by
the vintner (which was a mere shelving-trap for the ad-
mission of casks), and had managed with some difficulty
to unchain and raise the door at the upper end, they
emerged into the street without being observed or inter-
rupted. Joe still holding Mr. Haredale tight, and Ed-
\jard taking the same care of the vintner, they hurried
through the streets at a rapid pace ; occasionally stand-
ing aside to let some fugitives go by, or to keep out of
the way of the soldiers who followed them, and whose
questions, when they halted to put any, were speedily
stopped by one whispered word from Joe.
148
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
While Newgate was burning on the previous night,
Barnaby and his father, having been passed among the
crowd from hand to hand, stood in Smithfield, on the
outskirts of the mob, gazing at the flames like men who
had been suddenly aroused from sleep. Some moments
elapsed before they could distinctly remember where
they were, or how they got there; or recollected that
while they were standing idle and listless spectators of
the fire, they had tools m their hands which had been
hurriedly given them that they might free themselves
from their fetters.
Barnaby, heavily ironed as he was, if he had obeyed
his first impulse, or if he had been alone, would have
made his way back to the side of Hugh, who to bis
clouded intellect now shone forth with the new lustre of
being his preserver and truest friend. But his father's
terror of remaining in the streets, communicated itself to
him when he comprehended the full extent of his fears,
and impressed him with the same eagerness to fly to a
place of safety.
In a corner of the market among the pens for cattle,
Barnaby knelt down, and pausing every now and then
to pass his hand over his father's face, or look up to him
with a smile, knocked off his irons. When he had seen
him spring, a free man, to his feet, and had given vent
to the transport of delight which the sight awakened, he
BARNABY RUDGE.
143
went to work upon his own, which soon fell rattling down
upon the ground, and left his limbs unfettered.
Gliding away together when this task was accora-
plished, and passing several groups of men, each gath-
ered round a stooping figure to hide him from those who
passed, but unable to repress the clanking sound of bam-
mers, which told that they were too busy at the same
work, — the two fugitives made towards Clerkenwell,
and passing thence to Islington, as the nearest point of
egress, were quickly in the fields. After wandering
about for a long time, they found in a pasture near
Finchley a poor shed, with walls of mud, and roof of
grass and brambles, built for some cowherd, but now
deserted. Here, they lay down for the rest of the night.
They wandered to and fro when it was day, and once
Barnaby went off alone to a cluster of little cottages two
or three miles away, to purchase some bread and milk.
But finding no better shelter, they returned to the same
place, and lay down again to wait for night.
Heaven alone can tell with what vague thoughts of
duty and affection ; with what strange promptings of
nature, intelligible to him as to a man of radiant mind
and most enlarged capacity; with what dim memories
of children he had played with when a child himself,
who had prattled of their fathers, and of loving them,
and being loved; with how many half-remembered,
dreamy associations of his mother's grief and tears and
widowhood ; he watched and tended this man. But that
<i vague and shadowy crowd of such ideas came slowly
on him ; that they taught him to be sorry when he
looked upon his haggard face, that they overflowed his
eyes when he stooped to kiss him, that they kept bim
waking in a tearful gladness, shading him from the sun,
144
BAENABY RUDGE.
fanning him with leaves, soothing him when he started
In his sleep — ah! what a troubled sleep it was — and
wondering when she would come to join them and be
happy, is the truth. He sat beside him all that day;
listening for her footsteps in every breath of air, looking
for her shadow on the gently waving grass, twining the
hedge flowers for her pleasure when she came, and his
when he awoke; and stooping down from time to time
to listen to his mutterings, and wonder why he was so
restless in that quiet place. The sun went down, and
night came on, and he was still quite tranquil; busied
with these thoughts, as if there were no other people in
the world, and the dull cloud of smoke hanging on the
immense city in the distance, hid no vices, no crimes,
no life or death, or causes of disquiet — nothing but
clear air. 1
But the hour had now come when he must go alone
to find out the blind man, (a task that filled him with
delight,) and bring him to that place ; taking especial
care that he was not watched or followed on his way
back. He listened to the directions he must observe,
repeated them again and again, and after twice or thrice
returning to surprise his father with a light-hearted
laugh, went forth, at last upon his errand: leaving
Grip, whom he had carried from the jail in his arms,
to his care.
Fleet of foot, and anxious to return, he sped swiftly
on towards the city, but could not reach it before the
fires began, and made the night angry with their dismal
lustre.' "When lie entered the town — it might be that
he was changed by going there without his late com-
panions, and on no violent errand ; or by the beautiful
solitude in which he had passed the day, or by the
BARNABY RUDGE.
145
thoughts that had come upon him, — but it seemed
peopled by a legion of devils. This flight and pursuit,
this cruel burning and destroying, these dreadful cries
and stunning noises, were they the good lord's noble
cause !
* T
Though almost stupefied by the bewildering scene,
still he found the blind man's house. It was shut up
and tenantless. He waited for a long while, but no one
came. At last he withdrew ; and as he knew by this
time that the soldiers were firing, and many people must
have been killed, he went down into Holborn, where he
heard the great crowd was, to try if he could find Hugh,
and persuade him to avoid the danger, and return with
him.
If he had been stunned and shocked before, his horror
was increased a thousand-fold when he got into this vor-
tex of the riot, and not being an actor in the terrible
spectacle, had it all before his eyes. But there, in the
midst, towering above them all, close before the house
they were attacking now, was Hugh on horseback, call-
ing to the rest!
Sickened by the sights surrounding him on every side,
and by the heat and roar, and crash, he forced his way
among the crowd (where many recognized him, and with
shouts pressed back to let him pass), and in time was
nearly up with Hugh, who was savagely threatening
some one, but whom, or what he said, he could not, in
the great confusion, understand. At that moment the
crowd forced their way into the house, and Hugh — it
was impossible to see by what means, in such a con-
course — fell headlong down.
Barnaby was beside him when he staggered to his
feet. It was well he made him hear his voice, or
VOL. III. 10
146
BARNABY RUDGE.
Flugh, w itb his uplifted axe, would have cleft his skull
n twain.
" Barnaby — you ! Whose hand was that, that struck
ne down F "
" Not mine."
" Whose ! — I say, whose !" he cried, reeling back,
and looking wildly round. " What are we doing ?
Where is he ? Show me! "
" You are hurt," said Barnaby—as indeed he was,
n the head, both by the blow he had received, and
>y his horse's hoof. " Come away with me."
As he spoke, he took the horse's bridle in his hand,
urned him, and dragged Hugh several paces. This
jrought them out of the crowd, which was pouring from
he street into the vintner's cellars.
" Where's — where's Dennis ?" said Hugh, coming
to a stop and checking Barnaby with his strong arm.
' Where has he been all day ? What did he mean by
leaving me as he did, in the jail, last night ? Tell me,
pou — d' ye hear !"
With a flourish of his dangerous weapon, he fell down
upon the ground like a log. After a minute, though
already frantic with drinking and with the wound in his
head, he crawled to a stream of burning spirit which was
pouring down the kennel, and began to drink at it as if
it were a brook of water.
Barnaby drew him away and forced him to rise.
Though he could neither stand nor walk, he involun-
tarily staggered to his horse, climbed upon his back,
and clung there. After vainly attempting to divest
the animal of his clanking trappings, Barnaby sprung
up behind him, snatched the bridle, turned into Leather
Lane, which was close at hand, and urged the frightened
horse into a heavy trot.
BARNABY RUDGE.
147
He looked back, once, before he left the street; and
looked upon a sight not easily to be erased, even from
his remembrance, so long as he had life.
The vintner's house with half a dozen others near at
hand, was one great, glowing blaze. All night, no one
had essayed to quench the flames or stop their progress :
hut now a body of soldiers were actively engaged in
pulling down two old wooden houses, which were every
moment in danger of taking fire, and which could scarce-
ly fail, if they were left to burn, to extend the conflagra-
tion immensely. The tumbling down of nodding walls
and heavy blocks of wood, the hooting and the execra-
tions of the crowd, the distant firing of other military
detachments, the distracted looks and cries of those
whose habitations were in danger, the hurrying to and
fro of frightened people with their goods ; the reflections
in every quarter of the sky, of deep, red, soaring flames,
as though the last day had come and the whole universe
were burning; the dust, and smoke, and drift of fiery
particles, scorching and kindling all it fell upon ; the hot
unwholesome vapor, the blight on everything; the stars,
and moon, and very sky obliterated ; — made up such a
sum of dreariness and ruin, that it seemed as if the face
of Heaven were blotted out, and night, in its rest and
quiet, and softened light, never could look upon the
earth again.
But there was a worse spectacle than this — worse by
far than fire and smoke, or even the rabble's unappeas-
able and maniac rage. The gutters of the street, and
every crack and fissure in the stones, ran with scorching
spirit, which, being dammed up by busy hands, over-
flowed the road and pavement, and formed a great pool
in which the people dropped down dead by dozens.
148
BARNABY RUDGE.
They lay in heaps all round this fearful pond, husbands
and wives, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters,
women with children in their arms and babies at their
breasts, and drank until they died. While some stooped
with their lips to the brink and never raised their heads
again, others sprang up from their fiery draught, and
danced, half in a mad triumph, and half in the agony of
suffocation, until they fell, and steeped their corpses in
the liquor that had killed them. Nor was even this the
worst or most-appalling kind of death that happened on
this fatal night. From the burning cellars, where they
drank out of hats, pails, buckets, tubs, and shoes, some
men were drawn, alive, but all alight from head to foot;
who, in their unendurable anguish and suffering, making
for anything that had the look of water, rolled, hissing,
in this hideous lake, and splashed up liquid fire which
lapped in all it met with as it ran along the surface, and
neither spared the living nor the dead. On this last
night of the great riots—• for the last night it was — the
wretched victims of a senseless outcry, became them-
selves the dust and ashes of the flames they had kindled,
and strewed the public streets of London.
^ With all he saw in this last glance fixed indelibly upon
his mind, Barnaby hurried from the city which enclosed
such horrors; and holding down his head that he might
not even see the glare of the fires upon the quiet land-
scape, was soon in the still country roads}
He stopped at about half a mile from the shed where
his father lay, and with some difficulty making Hugh
sensible that he must dismount, sunk the horse's furni-
ture in a pool of stagnant water, and turned the auimal
loose. That done, he supported his companion as well
as he could, and led him slowly forward.
BAKNABY RUDGE.
149
CHAPTER LXIX.
It was the dead of night, and very dark, when Bar-
naby, with his stumbling comrade, approached the place
where he had left his father; but he could see him steal-
ing away into the gloom, distrustful even of him, and
rapidly retreating. After calling to him twice or thrice
that there was nothing to fear, but without effect, he suf-
fered Hugh to sink upon the ground, and followed to
bring him back.
He continued to creep away, until Barnaby was close
upon him; then turned, and said in a terrible, though
suppressed voice:
" Let me go. Do not lay hands upon me. You have
told her; and you and she together have betrayed me!"
Barnaby looked at him, in silence.
" You have seen your mother ! "
" No," cried Barnaby, eagerly. " Not for a long time
— longer than I can tell. A whole year, I think. Is
she here ?" 1
His father looked upon him steadfastly for a few mo-
ments, and then said — drawing nearer to him as he
spoke, for, seeing his face, and hearing his words, it was
impossible to doubt his truth : —
"What man is that?"
" Hugh — Hugh. Only Hugh. You know him. He
will not harm you. Why, you're afraid of Hugh ! Ha.
ha, ha 1 Afraid of gruff, old, noisy Hugh! "
160
BARNABY RUDGE.
* Wliat man is he, I ask you ? " he rejoined so fiercely,
that Barnaby stopped in his laugh, and shrinking back,
surveyed him with a look of terrified amazement.
" Why, how stern you are! You make me fear you
though you are my father. Why do you speak to me
so ? "
— "I want," he answered, putting away the hand
which his son with a timid desire to propitiate him laid
upon bis sleeve, — "I want an answer, and you give me
only jeers and questions. Who have you brought with
you to this hiding-place, poor fool; and where is the
blind man ? "
" I don't know where. His house was close shut. I
waited, but no person came; that was no fault of mine
This is Hugh — brave Hugh, who broke into that ugly
jail, and set us free. Aha! You like him now, do you ?
You like him now!"
" Why does he lie upon the ground ? "
" He has had a fall, and has been drinking. The
fields and trees go round, and round, and round with
him, and the ground heaves under his feet. You know
him? You remember? See!"
They had by this time returned to where he lay, and
both stooped over him to look into his face.
" I recollect the man," his father murmured. " Why
did you bring him here ? "
" Because he would have been killed if I had left him
over yonder. They were firing guns and shedding blood.
Does the sight of blood turn you sick, father? I see it
does by your face. That's like me — What are you
looking at ? "
"At nothing!" said the murderer softly, as he
Itarted back a pace or two, and gazed with sunken
BARNABY RUDGE.
151
jaw and staring eyes above his son's head. " At noth-
ing!"
He remained in the same attitude and with the same
expression on his face for a minute or more; then
glanced slowly round as if he had lost something; and
went shivering back, towards the shed.
" Shall I bring him in, father ? " asked Barnaby, who
had looked on wondering.
He only answered with a suppressed groan, and lying
down upon the ground, wrapped his cloak about his head,
and shrunk into the darkest corner.
Finding that nothing would rouse Hugh now, or make
him sensible for a moment, Barnaby dragged him along
the grass, and laid him on a little heap of refuse hay and
straw which had been his own bed ; first having brought
some water from a running stream hard by, and washed
his wound, and laved his hands and face. Then he lay
down himself, between tin two, to pass the night; and
looking at the stars, fell fast asleep.
[Awakened early in thf morning, by the sunshine and
the songs of birds, and hum of insects, he left them sleep-
ing in the hut, and walked into the sweet and pleasant
air. But he felt that on his jaded senses, oppressed and
burdened with the dreadful scenes of last night, and
many nights before, all the beauties of opening day,
which he had so often tasted, and in which he had had
such deep delight, fell heavily. He thought of the blithe
mornings when he and the dogs went bounding on to-
gether through the woods and fields; and the recollec-
tion filled his eyes with tears. He had no consciousness,
God help him, of having done wrong, nor had he any
Dew perception of the merits of the cause in which he
bad been engaged, or those of the men who advocated
152
BARNABY BUDGE.
it; but he was full of cares now, and regrets, and dismal
recollections, and wishes (quite unknown to him before)
that this or that event had never happened, and that the
sorrow and suffering of so many people had been spared.
And now he began to think how happy they would be
— his father, mother, he, and Hugh — if they rambled
away together, and lived in some lonely place, where
there were none of these troubles; and that perhaps the
Wind man, who had talked so wisely about gold, and told
him of the great secrets he knew, could teach them how
to live without being pinched by want. As this occurred
to him, he was the more sorry that he had not seen him
last night; and he was still brooding over this regret,
when his father came, and touched him on the shoulder.
" Ah!" cried Barnaby, starting from his fit of thought-
fulness. " Is it only you ? "
" Who should it be ? "
" I almost thought," he answered, " it was the blind
man. I must have some talk with him, father."
" And so must I, for without seeing him, I don't know
where to fly or what to do, and lingering here is death.
You must go to him again, and bring him here."
" Must I! " cried Barnaby, delighted; " that's brave,
father. That's what I want to do."
"But you must bring only him, and none other. And
though you wait at his door a whole day and night, still
you must wait, and not come back without him."
" Don't you fear that," he cried gayly. " He shall
come, he shall come."
" Trim off these gewgaws," said his father, plucking
the scraps of ribbon and the feathers from his hat, " and
over your own dress wear my cloak. Take heed how
you go, and they will be too busy in the streets to notice
BARNABY RUDGE.
153
you. Of your coming back you need take no account,
for he'll manage that, safely."
" To be sure ! " said Barnaby. " To be sure he will!
A wise man, father, and one who can teach us to be
rich! Oh! I know him, I know him!"
He was speedily dressed, and as well disguised as he
could be. With a lighter heart he then set off upon his
second journey, leaving Hugh, who was still in a drunken
stupor, stretched upon the ground within the shed, and
his father walking to and fro before it.
The murderer, full of anxious thoughts, looked after
him, and paced up and down, disquieted by every breath
of air that whispered among the boughs, and by every
light shadow thrown by the passing clouds upon the
daisied ground. He was anxious for his safe return,
and yet, though his own life and safety hung upon it, felt
a relief while he was gone. In the intense selfishness
which the constant presence before him of his great
crimes, and their consequences here and hereafter, en-
gendered, every thought of Barnaby, as his son, was
swallowed up and lost. Still, his presence was a torture
and reproach; in his wild eyes there were terrible
images of that guilty night; with his unearthly aspect,
and his half-formed mind, he seemed to the murderer a
creature who had sprung into existence from his victim's
blood. He could not bear his look, his voice, his touch i
and yet he was forced, by his own desperate condition
and his only hope of cheating the gibbet, to have him by
his side, and to know that he was inseparable from his
single chance of escape.
He walked to and fro, with little rest, all day, revolv-
,ng these things in his mind; and still Hugh lay, uncon-
scious, in the shed. At length, when the sun was setting,
154
BABNABY BUDGE.
Barnaby returned, leading the blind man, and talking
earnestly to him as they came along together.
The murderer advanced to meet them, and bidding
his son go on and speak to Hugh, who had just then
staggered to his feet, took his place at the blind man's
elbow, and slowly followed, towards the shed.
" Why did you send him ? " said Stagg. " Don't you
know it was the way to have him lost, as soon as
found ? "
"Would you have had me come myself?" returned
the other.
" Humph! Perhaps not. I was before the jail on
Tuesday night, but missed you in the crowd. I was out
last night, too. There was good work lasf night — gay
work—profitable work" — he added, rattling the money
in his pockets.
" Have you " —
— " Seen your good lady ? Yes."
" Do you mean to tell me more, or not ? "
" I'll tell you all," returned the blind man, with a
laugh. " Excuse me — but I love to see you so impa-
tient. There's energy in it."
" Does she consent to say the word that may save
me?"
"No," returned the blind man emphatically, as he
turned his face towards him. " No. Thus it is. She
has been at death's door since she lost her darling — has
been insensible, and I know not what. I tracked her to
a hospital, and presented myself (with your leave) at her
bedside. Our talk was not a long one, for she was weak,
and there being people near, I was not quite easy. Buf
I told her all that you and I agreed upon, and pointed
out the young gentleman's position in strong terms. She
BAKNABY RUDGE.
155
tried to soften me, but that, of course (as I told her),
was lost time. She cried and moaned, you may be sure;
all women do. Then, of a sudden, she found her voice and
strength, and said that Heaven would help her and her
innocent son ; and that to Heaven she appealed against
us — which she did ; in really very pretty language, I
assure you. I advised her, as a friend, not to count too
much on assistance from any such distant quarter —
recommended her to think of it — told her where I lived
— said I knew she would send to me before noon, next
day — and left her, either in a faint or shamming."
When he had concluded this narration, during which
he had made several pauses, for the convenience of
cracking and eating nuts, of which he seemed to have a
pocketful, the blind man pulled a flask from his pocket,
took a draught himself, and offered it to his companion.
" You won't, won't you ?" he said, feeling that he
pushed it from him. " Well! Then the gallant gentle-
man who's lodging with you, will. Hallo, bully !"
" Death !" said the other, holding him back. " Will
you tell me what I am to do!"
" Do! Nothing easier. Make a moonlight flitting in
two hours' time with the young gentleman (he's quite
ready to go ; I have been giving him good advice as we
came along), and get as far from London as yon can.
Let me know where you are, and leave the rest to me.
She must come round ; she can't hold out long ; and as
to the chances of your being retaken in the mean while,
why it wasn't one man who got out of Newgate, but
three hundred. Think of that, for your comfort."
" We must support life. How ? "
" How !" repeated the blind man. " By eating and
drinking. And how get meat and drink, but by paying
BARNABY BUDGE.
for it! Money ! " he cried, slapping his pocket. " Is
money the word ? Why the streets have been running
money. Devil send that the sport's not over yet, for
these are jolly times; golden, rare, roaring, scrambling
times. Hallo, bully! Hallo! Hallo! Drink, bully,
drink. Where are ye there ! Hallo! "
With such vociferations, and with a boisterous man-
ncr which bespoke his perfect abandonment to the gen-
eral license and disorder, he groped his way towards
the shed, where Hugh and Barnaby were sitting on the
ground.
" Put it about! " he cried, handing his flask to Hugh.
" The kennels run with wine and gold. Guineas and
strong water flow from the very pumps. About with it,
don't spare it! "
Exhausted, unwashed, unshorn, begrimed with smoke
and dust, his hair clotted with blood, his voice quite
gone, so that he spoke in whispers; his skin parched up
by fever, his whole body bruised and cut, and beaten
about, Hugh still took the flask, and raised it to his lips.
He was in the act of drinking, when the front of the
shed was suddenly darkened, and Dennis stood before
them. ,
" No offence, no offence," said that personage in a
conciliatory tone, as Hugh stopped in his draught, and
eyed him, with no pleasant look, from head to foot.
'' No offence, brother. Barnaby here too, eh ? How
are you, Barnaby ? And two other gentlemen .' Your
humble servant, gentlemen. No offence to you either, I
hope. Eh, brothers ? "
Notwithstanding that he spoke in this very friendly
and confident manner, he seemed to have considerable
hesitation about entering, and remained outside the roof.
BARNABY RtDGE.
157
He was rather better dressed than usual: wearing the
same suit of threadbare black, it is true, but having
round his neck an unwholesome-looking cravat of a yel-
lowish white; and, on his hands, great leather gloves,
sucli as a gardener might wear in following his trade.
His shoes were newly greased, and ornamented with a
pair of rusty iron buckles ; the pack-thread at his knees
had been renewed; and where he wanted buttons, he
wore pins. Altogether, lie had something the look of
a tipstaff, or a bailiff's follower, desperately faded, but
who had a notion of keeping up the appearance of a
professional character, and making the best of the worst
means.
" You're very snug here,'' said Mr. Dennis, pulling
out a mouldy pocket-handkerchief, which looked like a
decomposed halter, and wiping his forehead in a nervous
manner. - -
" Not snug enough to prevent your finding us, it
seems," Hugh answered sulkily, f
" Why, I'll tell you what, brother," said Dennis, with
a friendly smile, " when you don't want me to know
which way you're riding, you must wear another sort
of bells on your horse. Ah! I know the sound of
them you wore last night, and have got quick ears for
'em; that's the truth. Well, but how are you, brother?"
He had by this time approached, and now ventured to
sit down by him.
" How am I?" answered Hugh. "Where were you
yesterday ? Where did you go when you left me in
the jail ? Why did you leave me ? And what did you
mean by rolling your eyes and shaking your fist at me,
eh?"
"I shake my fist! — at you, brother ! " said Dennis,
1.58
BARNABY BUDGE.
gently checking Hugh's uplifted hand, which looked
threatening.
" Your stick, then ; it's all one."
" Lord love you, brother, I meant nothing. You
don't understand me by half. I shouldn't wonder now,"
he added, in the tone of a desponding and injured man,
" but you thought, because I wanted them chaps left in
tlte prison, that I was a-going to desert the banners?"
Hugh told him, with an oath, that be had thought
so.
" Well! " said Mr. Dennis, mournfully, " if you a'n't
enough to make a man mistrust his feller-creeturs, I
don't know what is. Desert the banners! Me! Ned
Dennis, as was so christened by his own father ! — Is
this axe your'n brother ? "
" Yes, it's mine," said Hugh, in the same sullen man-
ner as before; " it might have hurt you, if you had
come in its way once or twice last night. Put it down."
" Might have hurt me ! " said Mr. Dennis, still keep-
ing it in his hand, and feeling the edge with an air of
abstraction. " Might have hurt me! and me exerting
myself all the time to the wery best advantage. Here's
a world! And you're not a-going to ask me to take a
sup out of that 'ere bottle, eh ? "
Hugh passed it towards him. As he raised it to his
lips, Barnaby jumped up, and motioning them to be si-
lent, looked eagerly out.
"What's the matter, Barnaby?" said Dennis, glancing
at Hugh and dropping the flask, but still holding the axe
in his hand.
" Hush ! " he answered softly. " What do I see glit-
tering behind the hedge ? "
" What! " cried the hangman, raising his voice to its
BAKNABY BUDGE.
159
highest pitch, and laying hold of him and Hugh. " Not
-r~ not soldiers, surely!"
That moment, the shed was filled with armed men;
and a body of horse, galloping into the field, drew up
before it
" There !" said Dennis, who remained untouched
among them when they had seized their prisoners ; " it's
them two young ones, gentlemen, that the proclamation
puts a price on. This other's an escaped felon — I'm
sorry for it, brother," he added, in a tone of resignation,
addressing himself to Hugh ; 4 but you've brought it on
yourself; you forced me to do it; you wouldn't respect
the soundest constitootional principles, you know ; you
went and wiolated the wery framework of society. I
had sooner have given away a trifle in charity than done
this, I would upon my soul. — If you'll keep fast hold
on 'em, gentlemen, I think I can make a shift to tie 'em
better than you can.'^
But this operation was postponed for a few moments
by a new occurrence. The blind man, whose ears were
quicker than most people's sight, had been- alarmed, be-
fore Barnaby, by a rustling in the bushes, under cover
of which the soldiers had advanced. He retreated in-
stantly — had hidden somewhere for a minute — and
probably in his confusion mistaking the point at which
he had emerged, was now seen running across the open
meadow. >
An officer cried directly that he had helped to plun-
der a house last night. He was loudly called on to
surrender. He ran the harder, and in a few seconds
would have been out of gun-shot. The word was given,
ana the men fired.
There was a breathless pause and a profound silence,
BARNABY R1JD0E.
during which all eyes were fixed upon him. He had
been seen to start at the discharge, as if the report had
frightened him. But he neither stopped nor slackened
his pace in the least, and ran on full forty yards farther,
Then, without one reel or stagger, or sign of faintness
or quivering of any limb, he dropped.
Some of them hurried up to where he lay ; — the
hangman with them. Everything had passed so quick-
ly, that the smoke was not yet scattered, but curled
.slowly off in a little cloud, which seemed like the dead
man's spirit moving solemnly away. There were a few
drops of blood upon the grass — more, when they turned
him over — that was all.
" Look here !. Look here ! " said the hangman, stoop-
ing one knee beside the body, and gazing up with a
disconsolate face at the officer and men. " Here's a
pretty sight! "
" Stand out of the way," replied the officer. " Ser-
geant! see what he had about him."
The man turned his pockets out upon the grass, and
counted, besides some foreign coins and two rings, five-
and-forty guineas in gold. These were bundled up in
a handkerchief and carried away; the body remained
there for the present, but six men and the sergeant were
left to take it to the nearest public-house.
Now then, if you're going," said the sergeant, clap-
ping Dennis on the back, and pointing after the officer
who was walking towards the shed.
To which Mr. Dennis only replied, " Don't talk to
me !" and then repeated what he had said before, name-
ly, " Here's a pretty sight! "
"It's not one that you care for much, I should think,"
observed the sergeant coolly. '
BARNABY RUDGE.
161
" Why, who," said Mr. Dennis, rising, '• should care
for it, if I don't ? "
"Oh ! I didn't know you was so tender-hearted," said
the sergeant. " That's all! "
"Tender-hearted!" echoed Dennis. '^Tender-hearted!
Look at this man. Do you call this constitootional ? Do
you see him shot through and through instead of being
worked off like a Briton ? Damme, if I know which
party to side with. You're as bad as the other. What's
to become of the country if the military power's to go
a-superseding the ciwilians in this way ? Where's this
poor fellow-creetur's rights as a citizen, that he didn't
have me in his last moments ! I was here. I was will-
ing. I was ready. These are nice times, brother, to
have the dead crying out against us in this way, and
sleep comfortably in our beds arterwards ; wery nice!
Whether he derived any material consolation from
binding the prisoners, is uncertain ; most probably he
did. At all events, his being summoned to that work,
diverted him, for the time, from these painful reflections,
and gave his thoughts a more congenial occupation.
They were not all three carried off together, but in
two parties ; Barnaby and his father, going by one road
in the centre of a body of foot; and Hugh, fast bound
upon a horse, and strongly guarded by a troop of cavalry,
being taken by another.
They had no opportunity for the least, communication,
in the short interval which preceded their departure;
being kept strictly apart. Hugh only observed that
Barnaby walked with a drooping head among his guard,
and, without raising his eyes, that he tried to wave his
fettered hand when he passed. For himself, he buoyed
up his courage as he rode along, with the assurance that
VOL. III. 11
162
BARNABT RUDGE.
the mob would force his jail wherever it might be, and
set him at liberty. But when they got into London, and
more especially into Fleet Market, lately the stronghold
of the rioters, where the military were rooting out the
last remnant of the crowd, he saw that this hope -was
gone, and felt that he was riding to his death.
f
BARNABY RUDGE.
163
CHAPTER LXX.
Mb. Dennis having despatched this piece of business
without any personal hurt or inconvenience, and having
now retired into the tranquil respectability of private
life, resolved to solace himself with half an hour or so
of female society. With this amiable purpose in his
mind, he bent his steps towards the house where Dolly
and Miss Haredale were still confined, and whither Miss
Miggs had also been removed by order of Mr. Simon
Tappertit.
As he walked along the streets with his leather gloves
clasped behind him, and his face indicative of cheerful
thought and pleasant calculation^Mr. Dennis might have
been likened unto a farmer ruminating among his crops,
and enjoying by anticipation the bountiful gifts of Provi-
dence. Look where he would, some heap of ruins
afforded him rich promise of a working off; the whole
town appeared to have been ploughed, and sown, and
nurtured by most genial weather ; and a goodly harvest
was at hand.\
Having taken up arms and resorted to deeds of vio-
lence, with the great main object of preserving the Old
Bailey in all its purity, and the gallows in all its pristine
usefulness and moral grandeur, it would perhaps be going
too far to assert that Mr. Dennis had ever distinctly con-
templated and foreseen this happy state of things. He
rather looked upon it as one of those beautiful dispensa-
164
BARNABY RUPGE.
lions which are inscrutably brought about for the behoof
jpnd advantage of good men. He felt, as it were, per-
sonally referred to, in this prosperous ripening for the
gibbet; and had never considered himself so much the
pet and favorite child of Destiny, or loved that lady so
well or with such a calm and virtuous reliance, in all
his life.
As to being taken up, himself, for a rioter, and pun-
i8hed with the rest, Mr. Dennis dismissed that possibility
from his thoughts as an idle chimera; arguing that the
line of conduct he had adopted at Newgate, and the ser-
vice he had rendered that day, would be more than a
set-off against any evidence which might identify him
as a member of the crowd. That any charge of com-
panionship which might be made against him by those
who were themselves in danger, would certainly go for
nought. And that if any trivial indiscretion on his part
should unluckily come out, the uncommon usefulness of
his office, ai!'present, and the great demand for the exer-
. cise of its functions, would certainly cause it to be winked
at, and passed over. In a word, he had played his cards
throughout, with great care ; had changed sides at the
very nick of time; had delivered up two of the most
notorious rioters, and a distinguished felon to boot; and
was quite at his ease.
Saving — for there is a reservation ; and even Mr.
Dennis-was not perfectly happy — saving for one cir-
cumstance ; to wit, the forcible detention of Dolly and
Miss Haredale, in a house almost adjoining his own.
This was a stumbling-block ; for if they were discovered
and released, they could, by the testimony they had it in
their power to give, place him in a situation of great
jeopardy ; and to set them at liberty, first extorting from
BARNABY BUDGE.
165
them an oath of secrecy and silence, was a thing not
to be thought of. It was more, perhaps, with an eye
to the danger which lurked in this quarter, than from
his abstract love of conversation with the sex, that the
hangman, quickening his steps, now hastened into their
society, cursing the amorous natures of Hugh and Mr.
Tappertit with great heartiness, at every step he took.
When he entered the miserable room in which they
were confined, Dolly and Miss Haredale withdrew in
silence to the remotest corner. But Miss Miggs, who
was particularly tender of her reputation, immediately
fell upon her knees and began to scream very loud, cry-
ing, " What will become of me!" —" Where is my
Simmuns!" — "Have mercy, good gentleman* on my
sex's weaknesses ! " — with other doleful lamentations
of that nature, which she delivered with great pro-
priety and decorum. «*
"Miss, miss," whispered Dennis, beckoning to her
with his forefinger, "come here —I won't hurt you.
Come here, my lamb, will you ? "
On hearing this tender epithet, Miss Miggs who had
left off screaming when he opened his lips, and had
listened to him attentively, began again: crying, "Oh
I'm his lamb! He says I'm his lamb! Oh gracious,
why wasn't I born old and ugly! Why was I ever
made to be the youngest of six, and all of 'em dead and
in their blessed graves, excepting one married sister,
which is settled in Golden Lion Court, number twenty-
sivin, second bell-handle oil the —! " .
" Don't 1 say I a'n't a-going to hurt you ? " said
Dennis, pointing to a chair. " Why, miss, what's the
matter ? "
" I don't know what mayn't be the matter!" cried
BARNABY RUDGE.
Miggs, clasping her hands distractedly. " Anything
may be the matter!"
" But nothing is, I tell you," said the hangman.
" First stop that noise, and come and sit down here,
will you, chuckey ? "
The coaxing tone in which he said these latter words
might have failed in its object, if he had not accompanied
them with sundry sharp jerks of his thumb over one
shoulder, and with divers winks and thru stings of his
tongue into his cheek, from which signals the damsel
gathered that he sought to speak to her apart, concern-
ing Miss Haredale and Dolly. Her curiosity being
very powerful, and her jealousy by no means inactive,
she arose, and with a great deal of shivering and start-
ing back, and much muscular action among all the small
bones in her throat, gradually approached him.
" Sit down," said the hangman.
Suiting the action to the word, he thrust Iter rather
suddenly and prematurely into a chair; and designing
to reassure her by a little harmless jocularity, such as
is adapted to please and fascinate the sex, converted his
right forefinger into an ideal bradawl or gimlet, and
made as though he would screw the same into her side
— whereat Miss Miggs shrieked • again, and evinced
symptoms of faintness.
" Lovey, my dear," whispered Dennis, drawing his
chair close to hers. " When was your young man
here last, eh ? "
" My young man, good gentleman !" answered Miggs
in a tone of exquisite distress.
" Ah! Simmuns, you know — hiin P " said Dennis.
" Mine indeed !" cried Miggs, with a burst of bitter-
uess — aud as she said it, she glanced towards Dolly.
" Mine, good gentleman !"
BABNABY BUDGE.
167
This was just what Mr. Dennis wanted, and expected
" Ah !" he said, looking so soothingly, not to say
amorously on Miggs, that she sat, as she afterwards
remarked, on pins and needles of the sharpest White-
chapel kind, not knowing what intentions might be sug-
gesting that expression to his features: "I was afraid
of that I saw as m jch, myself. It's her fault. She
will entice 'em."
"I wouldn't," cried Miggs, folding her hands and
looking upwards with a kind of devout blankness, "I
wouldn't lay myself out as she does; I wouldn't be as
bold as her; I wouldn't seem to say to all male cree-
turs 'come and kiss me'" — and here a shudder quite
convulsed her frame — " for any earthly crowns as
might be offered. Worlds," Miggs added solemnly,
"should not reduce me. No. Not if I was Wenis."
" Well, but you are Wenus you know," said Mr. Den-
nis, confidentially.
" No, I am not, good gentleman," answered Miggs,
shaking her head with an air of self-denial which seemed
to imply that she might be if she chose, but she hoped
she knew better. " No I am not, good gentleman. Don't
charge me with it."
Up to this time she had turned round, every now and
then, to where Dolly and Miss Haredale had. retired,
and uttered a scream, or groan, or laid her hand upon
her lieart and trembled excessively, with a view of keep-
ing up appearances, and giving them to understand that
she conversed with the visitor, under protest and on
compulsion, and at a great personal sacrifice, for their
common good. But at this point, Mr. Dennis looked
so very full of meaning, and gave such a singularly
expressive twitch to his face as a request to her to come
168
BARNABY RUDGE.
still nearer to hiin, that she abandoned these little arts,
and gave him her whole and undivided attention.
r " When was Simmuns here, I say ?" quoth Dennis,
in her ear.
" Not since yesterday morning ; and then only for a
few minutes, Not all day, the day before."
, "--You know he meant all along to carry off that
one ? " said Dennis, indicating Dolly by the slightest pos*
sible jerk of his head : —" And to hand you over to
somebody else."
Miss Miggs, who had fallen into a terrible state of
grief when the first part of this sentence was spoken,
recovered a little at the second, and seemed by the
sudden check she put upon her tears, to intimate that
possibly this arrangement might meet her views ; and
that it might, perhaps, remain an open question.
—" But unfort'nately," pursued Dennis, who observed
this: " somebody else was fond of her too, you see ; and
even if he wasn't, somebody else is took for a rioter,
and it's all over with him."
Miss Miggs relapsed.
" Now, I want," said Dennis, " to clear this house,
and to see you righted. What if I was to get her off,
out of the way, eh ? "
Miss Miggs, brightening again, rejoined, with many
breaks and pauses from excess of feeling, that tempta-
tions had been Simmuns's bane. That it was not his
faults, but hers (meaning Dolly's). That men did not
see through these dreadful arts as women did, and there-
fore was caged and trapped, as Simmun had been. That
she had no personal motives to serve — far from it —
on the contrary, her intentions was good towards all
parties. But forasmuch as she knowed that Simmun, if
BARNA13Y RUDGE.
169
nnited to any designing and artful minxes (she would
name no names, for that was not her dispositions) —■
to any designing and artful minxes—must be made
miserable and unhappy for life, she did incline tow'ards
preventions. Such, she added, was her free confessions.
But as this was private feelings, and might perhaps be
looked upon as wengeance, she begged the gentleman
would say no more. Whatever he said, wishing to do
her duty by all mankind, even by them as had ever
been her bitterest enemies, she would not listen to him.
With that she stopped her ears, and shook her head
from side to side, to intimate to Mr. Dennis that though
he talked until he had no breath left, she was as deaf
as any adder.
" Lookee here, my sugar-stick," said Mr. Dennis;
" if your view's the same as mine, and you'll only be
quiet and slip away at the right time, I can have the
house clear to-morrow, and be out of this trouble. —
Stop though ! there's the other."
" Which other, sir ? " asked Miggs — still with her
fingers in her ears and her head shaking obstinately.
" Why, the ta'llest one, yonder," said Dennis, as he
stroked his chin, and added, in an undertone to him-
self, something about not crossing Muster Gashford.
Miss Miggs replied (still being profoundly deaf)
that if Miss Haredale stood in the way at all, he might
make himself quite easy on that score ; as she had
gathered, from what passed between Hugh and Mr.
Tappertit when they were last there, that she was to
be removed alone (not by them, but by somebody else),
to-morrow night.
Mr. Dennis opened his eyes very wide at this piece
of information, whistled once, considered once, and
170
BARNABY RUDGE.
finally slapped his head once and nodded once, as if
he had got the clew to this mysterious removal, and
so dismissed it. Then he imparted his design con-
cerning Dolly to Miss Miggs, who was taken more
deaf than before, when he began ; and so remained, all
through.
The notable scheme was this. Mr. Dennis was im-
mediately to seek out from among the rioters, some
daring young fellow (and he had one in his eye, he
said), who, terrified by the threats he could hold out
to him, and alarmed by the capture of so many who
were no better and no worse than he, would gladly
avail himself of any help to get abroad, and out of
harm's way, with his plunder, even though his journey
were encumbered by an unwilling companion; indeed,
the unwilling companion being a beautiful girl, would
probably be an additional inducement and temptation.
Such a person found, he proposed to bring him there
on the ensuing night, when the tall one was taken off,
and Miss Miggs had purposely retired; and then that
Dolly should be gagged, muffled in a cloak, and car-
ried in any handy conveyance down to the river's
side; where there were abundant means of getting her
smuggled snugly off in any small craft of doubtful
character, and no questions asked. With regard to the
expense of this removal, he would say, at a rough cal-
culation, that two or three silver tea or coffee pots,
with something additional for drink (such as a muffineer
or toast-rack), would more than cover it Articles of
plate of every kind having been buried by the rioters
in several lonely parts of London, and particularly, as
he knew, in St. James's Square, which, though easy
of access, was little frequented after dark, and had a
BARNABY RUDGE.
171
convenient piece of water in the midst, the needful
funds were close at hand, and could be had upon the
shortest notice. With regard to Dolly, tlie gentleman
would exercise his own discretion. He would be bound
to do nothing but to take her away, and keep her away.
All other arrangements and dispositions would rest en-
tirely with himself.
If Miss Miggs had had her hearing, no doubt she
would have been greatly shocked by the indelicacy of
a young female's going away with a stranger, by night
(for her moral feelings, as we have said, were of the
tenderest kind) ; but directly Mr. Dennis ceased to
speak, she reminded him that he had only wasted
breath. She then went on to say (still with her fingers
in her ears) that nothing less than a severe practical
lesson would save the locksmith's daughter from utter
ruin ; and that she felt it, as it were, a moral obli-
gation and a sacred duty to the family, to wish that
some one would devise one for her reformation. Miss
Miggs remarked, and very justly, as an abstract senti-
ment which happened to occur to her at the moment,
that she dared to say the locksmith and his wife would
murmur, and repine, if they were ever, by forcible ab-
duction, or otherwise, to lose their child; but that we
seldom knew, in this world, what was best for us : such
being our sinful and imperfect natures, that very few
arrived at that clear understanding.
Having brought their conversation to this satisfactory
end, they parted : Dennis, to pursue his design, and take
another walk about his farm : Miss Miggs, to launch,
when he left her, into such a burst of mental anguish
(which she gave them to understand was occasioned by
certain tender things he had had the presumption and
172
BARNABY RUDGE.
audacity to say), that little Dolly's heart was quite
melted. Indeed, she said and did so much to soothe
the outraged feelings of Miss Miggs, and looked so
beautiful while doing so, that if that young maid had
not had ample vent for her surpassing spite, in a knowl-
edge of the mischief that was brewing, she must have
scratched her features, on the spot.
barnaby rudge. 11 )
CHAPTER LXXI.
All next day, Emma Haredale, Dolly, and Miggs,
rtmained cooped up together in what had now been
their prison for so many days, without seeing any per-
son, or hearing any sound but the murmured conversa-
tion, in an outer room, of the men who kept watch over
them. There appeared to be more of these fellows than
there had been hitherto ; and they could no longer hear
the voices of women, which they had before plainly dis-
tinguished. Some new excitement, too, seemed to pre-
vail among them ; for there was much stealthy going in
and out, and a constant questioning of those who were
newly arrived. They had previously been quite reck-
less in their behavior; often making a great uproar;
quarrelling among themselves, fighting, dancing, and
singing. They were now very subdued and silent, con-
versing almost in whispers, and stealing in and out with
a soft and stealthy tread, very different from the bois-
terous trampling in which their arrivals and departures
had hitherto been announced to the trembling captives.
Whether this change was occasioned by the presence
among them of some person of authority in their ranks,
or by any other cause, they were unable to decide.
Sometimes they thought it was in part attributable to
there being a sick man in the chamber, for last night
there had been a shuffling of feet, as though a burden
were brought in, and afterwards a moaning noise. But
174
BARNABY RUDGE.
they had no means of ascertaining the truth : for any
question or entreaty on their parts only provoked a
storm of execrations, or something worse; and they
were too happy to be left alone, unassailed by tnreali 01
admiration, to risk even that comfort, by any volun,ary
communication with those who held them in durante.
It was sufficiently evident, both to Emma and to the
locksmith's poor little daughter herself, that she, Dolly,
was the great object of attraction ; and that so soon as
they should have leisure to indulge in the softer passion,
Hugh and Mr. Tappertit would certainly fall to blows
for her sake; in which latter case, it was not very dif-
ficult to foresee whose prize she would become. With
all her old horror of that man revived, and deepened
into a degree of aversion and abhorrence which no
language can describe; with a thousand old recollec-
tions and regrets, and causes of distress, anxiety, and
fear, besetting her on all sides; poor Dolly Varden —
sweet, blooming, buxom Dolly — began to hang her
head, and fade, and droop, like a beautiful flower. The
color fled from her cheek®, her courage forsook her, her
gentle heart failed. Unhiindful of all her provoking
caprices, forgetful of all her conquests and inconstancy,
with all her winning little vanities quite gone, she nes-
tied all the livelong day in Emma Haredale's bosom;
and, sometimes calling on her dear old gray-haired
father, sometimes on her mother, and sometimes even
on her old home, pined slowly away, like a poor bird in
its cage.
Light hearts, light hearts, that float so gayly on a
Smooth stream, that are so sparkling and buoyant in
the sunshine — down upon fruit, bloom upon flowers,
blush in summer air, life of the winged insect, whose
BARNABY RUDGE.
175
whole existence is a day — how soon ye sink in troubled
water ! Poor Dolly's heart — a little, gentle, idle, fickle
. thing ; giddy, restless, fluttering; constant to nothing but
bright looks, and smiles, and laughter — Dolly's heart
was breaking.
Emma had known grief, and could bear it better.
She had little comfort to impart, but she could soothe
and tend her, and she did so; and Dolly clung to her
like a child to its nurse. In endeavoring to inspire her
with some fortitude, she increased her own ; and though
the nights were long, and the days dismal, and she felt
the wasting influence of watching and fatigue, and had
perhaps a more defined and clear perception of their
destitute condition and its worst dangers, she uttered no
complaint. Before the ruffians, in whose power they
were, she bore herself so calmly, and with such_an
appearance, in the midst of all her terror, of a secret
conviction that they dared not harm her, that there was
not a man among them but held her in some degree of
dread ; and more than one believed she had a weapon
hidden in her dress, and was prepared to use it.
Such was their condition when they were joined by
Miss Miggs, who gave them to understand that she too
had been taken prisoner, because of her charms, and
detailed such feats of resistance she had performed (her
virtue having given her supernatural strength), that they
felt it quite a happiness to have her for a champion.
Nor was this the only comfort they derived at first from
Miggs's presence and society: for that young lady dis-
played such resignation and long-suffering, and so much
meek endurance, under her trials, and breathed in alt
her chaste discourse a spirit of such holy confidence an«
resignation, and devout belief that all would happen (o.
176
BARNABY RUDGE.
the best, that Emma felt her courage strengthened by the
bright example ; never doubting but that everything she
said was true, and that she, like them, was torn from all
6he loved, and agonized by doubt and apprehension. As
to poor Dolly, she was roused, at first, by seeing one who
came from home ; but when she heard under what cir-
cumstances she had left it, and into whose hands her
father had fallen, she wept more bitterly than ever, and
refused all comfort.
Miss Miggs was at some trouble to reprove her for
this state of mind, and to entreat her to take example
by herself, who, she said, was now receiving back, with
interest, tenfold the amount of her subscriptions to the
red-brick dwelling-house, in the articles of peace of
mind and a quiet conscience. And, while on serious
topics, Miss Miggs considered it her duty to try her
hand at the conversion of Miss Haredale; for whose
improvement she launched into a polemical address of
some length, in the course whereof, she likened herself
unto a chosen missionary, and that young lady to a can-
nibal in darkness. Indeed she returned so often to these
*
subjects, and so frequently called upon them to take a
lesson from her, — at the same time vaunting and, as it
were, rioting in, her huge unworthiness, and abundant
excess of sin, — that, in the course of a short time, she
became, in that small chamber, rather a nuisance than a
comfort, and rendered them, if possible, even more un
happy than they had been before.
The night had now come ; and for the fir.h time
(for their jailers had been regular in bring'ng food
and candles), they were left in darkness. Any change
in their condition in such a place inspired new fears;
and when some hours had passed, and the gloom
BARNABY RUDGE.
177
was still unbroken, Emma could no longer repress her
alarm.
They listened attentively. There was the same inur-
muring in the outer room, and now and then a moan
which seemed to be wrung from a person in great pain,
who made an effort to subdue it, but could not. Even
these men seemed to be in darkness too; for no light
shone through the chinks in the door, nor were they
moving, as their custom was, but quite still: the si-
lence being unbroken by so much as the creaking of
a board.
At first, Miss Miggs wondered greatly in her own
mind who this sick person might be; but arriving, on
second thoughts, at the conclusion that he was a part of
the schemes on foot, and an artful device soon to be
employed with great success, she opined, for Miss Hare-
dale's comfort, that it must be some misguided Papist
who had been wounded: and this happy supposition en-
couraged her to say, under her breath, " Ally Looyer!"
several times.
" Is it possible," said Emma, with some indignation,
" that you who have seen these men committing the out-
rages you have told us of, and who have fallen into their
hands, like us, can exult in their cruelties ! "
" Personal considerations, Miss," rejoined Miggs, " sinks
into nothing, afore a noble cause. Ally Looyer! Ally
Looyer! Ally Looyer, good gentlemen ! "
It seemed, from the shrill pertinacity with which
Miss Miggs repeated this form of acclamation, that
she was calling the same through the key-hole of the
door ; but in the profound darkness she could not be
seen.
" If the time has come — Heaven knows it may come
vol.. m. 12
178
BARNABY RUDGE.
at any moment — when they are bent on prosecuting the
designs, whatever they may be, with which they have
brought us here, can you still encourage, and take part
with them ? " demanded Emma.
" I thank my goodness-gracious-blessed-stars I can,
miss," returned Miggs, with increased energy. " Ally
Looyer, good gentlemen ! "
Even Dolly, cast down and disappointed as she was,
revived at this, and bade Miggs hold her tongue di-
rectly.
"Which, was you pleased to observe, Miss Varsen?"
said Miggs with a strong emphasis on the irrelative
pronoun.
Dolly repeated her request.
" Ho, gracious me! " cried Miggs, with hysterical de-
rision. " Ho, gracious me 1 Yes, to be sure I will.
Ho yes! I am a abject slave, and a toiling, moiling,
constant-working, always-being-found-fault-with, never-
giving-satisfactions, nor having-no-time-to-clean-one's-self,
potter's wessel — a'n't I, miss ! Ho yes ! My situations
is lowly, and my capacities is limited, and my duties is
to humble myself afore the base degenerating daughters
of their blessed mothers as is fit to keep companies with
holy saints but is born to persecutions from wicked re-
lations — and to demean myself before them as is no
better than Infidels — a'n't it, miss ! Ho yes ! My
only becoming occupations is to help young flaunting
pagins to brush and comb and titiwate theirselves into
whitening and suppulchres, and leave the young men to
think that there a'n't a bit of padding in it nor no pinch-
ing ins nor fillings out nor pomatums nor deceits nor
earthly wanities — a'n't it, miss! Yes, to be sure it is
— ho yes ! "
BARNABY RUDGE.
179
Having delivered these ironical passages with a most
wonderful volubility, and with a shrillness perfectly deaf-
ening (especially when she jerked out the interjections),
Miss Miggs, from mere habit, and not because weeping
was at all appropriate to the occasion, which was one of
triumph, concluded by bursting into a flood of tears, and
calling in an impassioned manner on the name of Sim-
muns.
What Emma Haredale and Dolly would have done, or
how long Miss Miggs, now that she had hoisted her true
colors, would have gone on waving them before their as-
tonished senses, it is impossible to tell. Nor is it neces-
sary to speculate on these matters, for a startling inter-
ruption occurred at that moment, which took their whole
attention by storm.
This was a violent knocking at the door of the house,
and then its sudden bursting open ; which was immedi-
ately succeeded by a scuffle in the room without, and the
clash of weapons. Transported with the hope that res-
cue had at length arrived, Emma and Dolly shrieked
aloud for help; nor were their shrieks unanswered; for
after a hurried interval, a man, bearing in one hand a
drawn sword, and in the other a taper, rushed into the
chamber where they were confined.
It was some check upon their transport to find in this
person an entire stranger, but they appealed to him,
nevertheless, and besought him, in impassioned language,
'.o restore them to their friends.
" For what other purpose am I here? " he answered,
dosing the door, and standing with his back against it.
" With what object have I made my way to this place,
through difficulty and danger, but to preserve you ? "
With a joy for which it was impossible to find ade-
180
BARNABY RUDGE.
quate expression, they embraced each other, and thanked
Heaven for this most timely aid. Their deliverer step-
ped forward for a moment to put the light upon the table,
and immediately returning to his former position against
the door, bared his head, and looked on smilingly.
" You have news of my uncle, sir ? " said Emma, turn-
ing hastily towards him.
'• And of my father and mother ? " added Dolly.
u Yes," he said. " Good news."
" They are alive and unhurt ?" they both cried at
once.
" Yes, and unhurt," he rejoined.
" And close at hand ? "
" I did not say close at hand," he answered smoothly ;
" they are at no great distance. Tour friends, sweet
one," he added, addressing Dolly, " are within a few
hours' journey. You will be restored to them, I hope,
to-night."
" My uncle, sir " — faltered Emma.
"Your uncle, dear Miss Haredale, happily—I say
happily, because he has succeeded where many of our
creed have failed, and is safe — has crossed the sea, and
is out of Britain."
" I thank God for it," said Emma, faintly.
" You say well. You have reason to be thankful:
greater reason than it is possible for you, who have seen
but one night of these cruel outrages, to imagine."
" Does he desire," said Emma, " that I should follow
him ? "
" Do you ask if he desires it ? " cried the stranger in
surprise. " If he desires it! But you do not know the
danger of remaining in England, the difficulty of escape,
or the price hundreds would pay to secure the means,
BAKNABY RUDGE.
181
when you make I hat inquiry. Pardon me. I had for-
gotten that you could not, being prisoner here."
" I gather, sir," said Emma, after a moment's pause,
'• from what you hint at, but fear to tell me, that I have
witnessed but the beginning, and the least, of the vio-
lence to which we are exposed, and that it has not yet
slackened in its fury ? "
He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, lifted up
his hands; and with the same smooth smile, which was
not a pleasant one to see, cast his eyes upon the ground,
and remained silent.
" You may venture, sir, to speak plain," said Emma,
"and to tell ine the worst. We have undergone some
preparation for it."
But here Dolly interposed, and entreated her not to
hear the worst, but the best; and besought the gentle-
man to tell them the best, and to keep the remainder
of his news, until they were safe among their friends
again.
" it is told in three words," he said, glancing at the
locksmith's daughter with a look of some displeasure.
" The people have risen, to a man, against us; the
streets are filled with soldiers, who support them and
do their bidding. We have no protection but from
above, and no safety but in flight; and that is a poor
resource; for we are watched on every hand, and de-
taiued here, both by force and fraud. Miss Haredale,
I cannot bear—believe me, that I cannot bear — by
speaking of myself, or what I have done, or am prepared
to do, to seem to vaunt my services before you. But.
having powerful Protestant connections, and having my
whole wealth embarked with theirs, in shipping and
vommerce, 1 happily possessed the means of saving your
182
BARNABY RUDGE.
uncle. I have the means of saving you ; and in re^
demption of my sacred promise, made to him, I am
here; pledged not to leave you until I have placed you
in his arms. The treachery or penitence of one of the
men about you, led to the discovery of your place of
confinement; and that I have forced my way here,
sword in hand, you see."
"You bring," said Emma, faltering, "some note or
token from my uncle ? "
" No, he doesn't," cried Dolly, pointing at him ear-
nestly : " now I am sure he doesn't. Don't go with
him for the world ! "
" Hush, pretty fool — be silent," he replied, frowning
angrily upon her. " No, Miss Haredale, I have no letter,
nor any token of any kind ; for while I sympathize with
you, and such as you, on whom misfortune so heavy and
so undeserved has fallen, I value my life. I carry, there-
fore, no writing which, found upon me, would lead to its
certain loss. I never thought of bringing any other
token, nor did Mr. Haredale think of intrusting me with
one — possibly because he had good experience of my
faith and honesty, and owed his life to me."
There was a reproof conveyed in these words, which,
to a nature like Emma Haredale's, was well addressed.
But Dolly, who was differently constituted, was by no
means touched by it, and still conjured her, in all the
terms of affection and attachment she could think of,
not to be lured away.
"Time presses," said their visitor, who, although he
sought to express the deepest interest, had something
cold and even in his speech, that grated on the ear;
" and danger surrounds us. If I have exposed myself
lo it, in vain, let it be so ; but if you and he should evei
BARNABY RUDGE.
18S
it st again, do me justice. If you decide to remain (as
I hink you do), remember, Miss Haredale, that I left
y'/ i with a solemn caution, and acquitting myself of all
the consequences to which you expose yourself."
" Stay, sir ! " cried Emma — " one moment, I beg
you. Cannot we " — and she drew Dolly closer to her
— " cannot we go together ? "
"The task of conveying one female in safety through
such scenes as we must encounter, to say nothing of at-
tracting the attention of those who crowd the streets,"
he answered, " is enough. I have said that she will be
restored to her friends to-night. If you accept the ser-
vice I tender, Miss Haredale, she shall be instantly
placed in safe conduct, and that promise redeemed. Do
you decide to remain ? People of all ranks and creeds
are flying from the town, which is sacked from end to
end. Let me be of use in some quarter. Do you stay,
or go ? "
" Dolly," said Emma, in a hurried manner, " my dear
girl, this is our last hope. If we part now, it is only that
we may meet again in happiness and honor. I will trust
to this gentleman."
" No — no — no ! " cried Dolly, clinging to her.
" Pray, pray, do not! "
" You hear," said Emma, " that to-night — only to-
night—within a few hours — think of that! — you will
be amor.g those who would die of grief to lose you, and
who are now plunged in the deepest misery for your sake.
Pray for me, dear girl, as I will for you ; and never for-
get the many quiet hours we have passed together. Say
one ' God bless you !' Say that at parting ! "
But Dolly could say nothing; no, not when Emma
kissed her cheek a hundred times, and covered it with
184
BAKNABY RUDGE.
tears, could she do more than hang upon her neck, and
sob, and clasp, and hold her tight.
" We have time for no more of this," cried the man,
unclinehing her hands, and pushing her roughly off, as
he drew Emma Haredale towards the door: "Now!
Quick, outside there! are you ready ?"
•' Ay!" cried a loud voice, which made him start.
" Quite ready ! Stand back here, for your lives !"
And in an instant he was felled like an ox in the
butcher's shambles — struck down as though a block of
marble had fallen from the roof and crushed him — and
cheerful light, and beaming faces came pouring in — and
Emma was clasped in her uncle's embrace, and Dolly,
with a shriek that pierced the air, fell into the arms of
her father and mother.
What fainting there was, what laughing, what crying,
what sobbing, what smiling, how much questioning, no
answering, all talking together, all beside themselves
with joy; what kissing, congratulating, embracing, shak-
ing of hands, and falling into all these raptures, over and
over and over again ; no language can describe.
At length, and after a long time, the old locksmith
went up and fairly hugged two strangers, who had stood
apart and left them to themselves; and then they saw
— whom? Yes, Edward Chester and Joseph Willet.
" See here ! " cried the locksmith. " See here! where
would any of us have been without these two ? Oh, Mr.
Edward, Mr. Edward — oh, Joe, Joe, how light, and yet
how full you have made my old heart to-night!"
" It was Mr. Edward that knocked him down, sir,"
said Joe : " I longed to do it, but I gave it up to him.
Come, you brave and honest gentleman! Get your
senses together, for you haven't long to lie here."
BARNABY RUDGE.
185
He had his foot upon the breast of their sham de-
liverer, in the absence of a spare arm; and gave him a
gentle roll as he spoke. Gashford, for it was no other,
crouching, yet malignant, raised his scowling face, like
sin subdued, and pleaded to be gently used.
"I have access to all my lord's papers, Mr. Haredale,"
he said in a submissive voice: Mr. Haredale keeping his
back towards him, and not once looking round : " there
are very important documents among them. There are a
great many in secret drawers, and distributed in various
places, known only to my lord and me. I can give some
very valuable information, and render important assist-
ance to any inquiry. You will have to answer it if T
receive ill usage."
" Pah 1" cried Joe, in deep disgust. " Get up, man :
you're waited for, outside. Get up, do you hear ? "
Gashford slowly rose; and picking up his hat, and
looking with a baffled malevolence, yet with an air of
despicable humility all round the room, crawled out.
" And now, gentlemen," said Joe, who seemed to be
the spokesman of the party, for all the rest were silent;
" the sooner we get back to the Black Lion, the better,
perhaps."
Mr. Haredale nodded assent, and drawing his niece's
arm through his, and taking one of her hands between
his own, passed out straightway; followed by the lock-
smith, Mrs. Yarden, and Dolly — who would scarcely
have presented a sufficient surface for all the hugs and
caresses they bestowed upon her though she had been
a dozen Dollys. Edward Chester and Joe followed.
And did Dolly never once look behind — not once ?
Was there no.t one little fleeting glimpse of the dark eye-
lash, almost resting on her flushed cheek, and of the
186
BARNABY RUDGE.
downcast sparkling eye it shaded? Joe thought there
was — and he is not likely to have been mistaken; for
there were not many eyes like Dolly's, that's the truth.
The outer room through which they had to pass, was
full of men; among them, Mr. Dennis, in safe keeping;
and there, had been since yesterday, lying in hiding be-
hind a wooden screen which was now thrown down, Si-
mon Tappertit, the recreant'Prentice, burnt and bruised,
and with a gun-shot wound in his body ; and his legs —
his perfect legs, the pride and glory of his life, the com-
fort of his whole existence — crushed into shapeless ugli-
ness. Wondering no longer at the moans they had heard,
Dolly crept closer to her father, and shuddered at the
sight: but neither bruises, burns, nor gun-shot wound,
nor all the torture of his shattered limbs, sent half so
keen a pang to Simon's breast, as Dolly passing out,
with Joe for her preserver.
A coach was ready at the door, and Dolly found her-
self safe and whole inside, between her father and mother,
with Emma Haredale, and her uncle, quite real, sitting
opposite. But there was no Joe, no Edward ; and they
had said nothing. They had only bowed once, and kept
at a distance. Dear heart! what a long way it wa» to
the Black Lion.
BABNABY RUDGE.
187
CHAPTER LXXII.
The Black Lion was so far off, and occupied such a
length of time in the getting at, that notwithstanding the
strong presumptive evidence she had about her of the
late events being real and of actual occurrence, Dolly
could not divest herself of the belief that she must be in
a dream which was lasting all night. Nor was she quite
certain that she saw and heard with her own proper
senses, even when the coach, in the fulness of time,
stopped at the Black Lion, and the host of that tavern
approached in a gush of cheerful light to help them to
dismount, and give them hearty welcome.
There too, at the coach-door, one on one side, one
upon the other, were already Edward Chester, and Joe
Willet, who must have followed in another coach: and
this was such a strange and unaccountable proceeding,
that Dolly was the more inclined to favor the idea of her
being fast asleep. But when Mr. Willet appeared —
old John himself — so heavy-headed and obstinate, and
with such a double chin as the liveliest imagination could
never in its boldest flights have conjured up in all its
vast proportions — then she stood corrected, and un-
willingly admitted to herself that she was broad awake.
And Joe had lost an arm — he — that well-made,
handsome, gallant fellow ! As Dolly glanced towards
him, and thought of the pain he must have suffered, and
the far-off places in which he had been wandering, and
188
BARNABY RJDGE.
wondered who had been his nurse, and hoped that who-
ever it was, she had been as kind and gentle and con-
siderate as she would have been, the tears came rising
to her bright eyes, one by one, little by little, until she
could keep them back no longer, and so, before them all,
wept bitterly.
" We are all safe now, Dolly," said her father, kindly.
" We shall not be separated any more. Cheer up, my
love, cheer up!"
The locksmith's wife knew better perhaps, than he,
what ailed her daughter. But Mrs. Yarden being quite
an altered woman — for the riots had done that good —
added her word to his, and comforted her with similar
representations.
"Mayhap," said Mr. Willet, senior, looking round
upon the company, " she's hungry. That's what it is,
depend upon it — I am myself."
The Black Lion, who, like old John, had been wait-
ing supper past all reasonable and conscionable hours,
hailed this as a philosophical discovery of the profoundest
and most penetrating kind; and the table being already
spread, they sat down to supper straightway.
The conversation was not of the liveliest nature, nor
were the appetites of some among them very keen. But
in both these respects, old John more than atoned for
any deficiency on the part of the rest, and very much
distinguished himself.
It was not in point of actual conversation that Mr.
Willet shone so brilliantly, for he had none of his old
ironies to " tackle," and was rather timorous of ventur-
ing on Joe; having certain vague misgivings within him,
that he was ready on the shortest notice, and on receipt
of the slightest offence, to fell the Black Lion to the
BARNAB5T BUDGE.
189
floor of his own parlor, and immediately withdraw to
China or some other remote and unknown region, there
to dwell for evermore, or at least until he had got rid
of his remaining arm and both legs, and perhaps an
eye or so, into the bargain. It was with a peculiar kind
of pantomime that Mr. Willet filled up every pause;
and in this he was considered by the Black Lion, who
had been his familiar for some years, quite to surpass
and go beyond himself, and outrun the expectations of
his most admiring friends.
The subject that worked in Mr. Willet's mind, and
occasioned these demonstrations, was no other than his
son's bodily disfigurement, which he had never yet got
himself thoroughly to believe, or comprehend. Shortly
after their first meeting, he had been observed to wander,
in a state of great perplexity, to the kitchen, and to di-
rect his gaze towards the fire, as if in search of his usual,,
adviser in all matters of doubt and difficulty. But there
being no boiler at the Black Lion, and the rioters having
so beaten and battered his own that it was quite unfit
for further service, he wandered out again, in a perfect
bog of uncertainty and mental confusion, and in that
state took the strangest means of resolving his doubts:
such as feeling the sleeve of his son's great-coat as deem-
ing it possible that his arm might be there; looking at
his own arms and those of everybody else, as if to assure
himself that two and not one was the usual allowance;
sitting by the hour together in a brown study, as if he
were endeavoring to recall Joe's image in his younger
days, and to remember whether he really had in those
times one arm or a pair; and employing himself in many
other speculations of the same kind.
Finding himself at this supper, surrounded by faces
190
BARNABY RUDGE.
with which he had been so well acquainted in old
times, Mr. Willet recurred to the subject with uncom-
mon vigor; apparently resolved to understand it now or
never. Sometimes, after every two or three mouthfuls,
he laid down his knife and fork, and stared at his son
with all his might — particularly at his maimed side;
then, he looked slowly round the table until he caught
some person's eye, when he shook his head with great
solemnity, patted his shoulder, winked, or as one may
say — for winking was a very slow process with him —
went to sleep with one eye for a minute or two; and so,
with another solemn shaking of his head, took up his
knife and fork again, and went on eating. Sometimes,
he put his food into his mouth abstractedly, and, with all
his faculties concentrated on Joe, gazed at him in a fit
of stupefaction as he cut his meat with one hand, until
he was recalled to himself by symptoms of choking on
his own part, and was by that means restored to con-
sciousness. At other times he resorted to such small
devices as asking him for the salt, the pepper, the vine-
gar, the mustard — anything that was on his maimed
side — and watching him as he handed it. By dint of
these experiments, he did at last so satisfy and convince
himself, that, after a longer silence than he had yet main-
tained, he laid down his knife and fork on either side his
plate, drank a long draught from a tankard beside him
(still keeping his eyes on Joe) and leaning backward in
his chair and fetching a long breath, said, as he looked
all round the board : —
" It's been took off! "
" By George !" said the Black Lion, striking the table
with his hand, " he's got it! "
" Yes, sir," said Mr. Willet, with the look of a man
BARNABY RUDGE.
191
who felt that he had earned a compliment, and deserved
it. " That's where it is. It's been took off."
"Tell him where it was done," said the Black Lion to
Joe.
" At the defence of the Savannah, father."
" At the defence of the Salwanners," repeated Mr
Willet, softly; again looking round the table.
" In America, where the war is," said Joe.
" In America, where the war is," repeated Mr. Willet.
"It was took off in the defence of the Salwanners in
America where the war is." Continuing to repeat these
words to himself in a low tone of voice (the same infor-
mation had been conveyed to him in the same terms, at
least fifty times before), Mr. Willet arose from table,
walked round to Joe, felt his empty sleeve all the way
up, from the cuff to where the stump of his arm re-
mained; shook his hand; lighted his pipe at the fire,
took a long whiff, walked to the door, turned round once
when he had reached it, wiped his left eye with the back
of his forefinger, and said, in a faltering voice: " My
son's arm — was took off — at the defence of the —
Salwanners — in America — where the war is " — with
which words he withdrew, and returned no more that
night.
Indeed, on various pretences, they all withdrew one
after another, save Dolly, who was left sitting there
alone. It was a great relief to be alone, and she was
crying to her heart's content, when she heard Joe's voice
at the end of the passage, bidding somebody good-night.
Good-night! Then he was going elsewhere — to some
distance, perhaps. To what kind of home could he be go-
ing now that it was so late !
She heard him walk along the passage, and pass the
192
BARNABY RUDGE.
dooi. But there was a hesitation in his footsteps. He
turned back — Dolly's heart beat high — he looked in.
" Good-night! " — he didn't say Dolly, but there was
comfort in his not saying Miss Varden.
" Good-night! " sobbed Dolly.
" I am sorry you take on so much, for what is past
and gone," said Joe kindly. " Don't. I can't bear to
see you do it. Think of it no longer. You are safe and
happy now."
Dolly cried the more.
" You must have suffered very much within these few
days — and yet you're not changed, unless it's for the bet-
ter. They said you were, but I don't see it. You were—
you were always very beautiful," said Joe, " but you are
more beautiful than ever, now. You are indeed. There
can be no harm in my saying so, for you must know it.
You are told so very often, I am sure."
As a general principle, Dolly did know it, and was told
so, very often. But the coach-maker had turned out,
years ago, to be a special donkey ; and whether she
had been afraid of making similar discoveries in others,
or had grown by dint of long custom to be careless of
compliments generally, certain it is that although she
cried so much, she was better pleased to be told so
now, than ever she had been in all her life.
"I shall bless your name," sobbed the locksmith's
little daughter, "as long as I live. I shall never hear
it spoken without feeling as if my heart would burst.
I shall remember it in my prayers, every night and
morning till I die !"
" Will you ? " said Joe, eagerly. " Will you indeed ?
It makes me — well, it makes me very glad and proud
to hear you say so."
BARNABY RUDGE.
193
Dolly still sobbed, and held her handkerchief to her
eyes. Joe still stood looking at her.
" Your voice," said Joe, " brings up old times so pleas-
antly, that, for the moment, I feel as if that night —
there can be no harm in talking of that night now —
had come back, and nothing had happened in the mean
time. I feel as if I hadn't suffered any hardships, but
had knocked down poor Tom Cobb only yesterday, and
had come to see you with my bundle on my shoulder be-
fore running away — You remember ? "
Remember! But she said nothing. She raised her
eyes for an instant. It was but a glance ; a little, tear-
ful, timid glance. It kept J#e silent though, for a long
time.
" Well! " he said stoutly, " it was to be otherwise, and
was. I have been abroad, fighting all the summer and
frozen up all the winter, ever since. I have come back
as poor in purse as I went, and crippled for life besides.
But, Dolly, I would rather have lost this other arm —
ay, I would rather have lost my head — than have come
back to find you dead, or anything but what I always
pictured you to myself, and what I always hoped ..and
wished to find you. Thank God for all!"
Oh how much, and how keenly, the little coquette of
five years ago, felt now ! She had found her heart at
last. Never having known its worth till now, she had
never known the worth of his. How priceless it ap-
peared!
" I did hope once," said Joe, in his homely way, " that
I might come back a rich man, and marry you. But I
was a boy then, and have long known better than that.
I am a poor, maimed, discharged soldier, and must be
content to rub through life as I can. I can't say, even
voi.. hi. 13
194
BARNABY RUDGE.
now, that I shall be glad to see you married, Dolly ; but
I am glad — yes, I am, and glad to think I can say so —
to know that you are admired and courted, and can pick
and choose for a happy life. It's a comfort to me to
know that you'll talk to your husband about me; and I
hope the time will come when I may be able to like him,
and to shake hands with him, and to come and see you as
a poor friend who knew you when you were a girl. God
bless you!"
His hand did tremble; but for all that, he took it away
again, and left her.
BAENABY RUDGE.
195
CHAPTER LXXIJI.
By this Friday night — for it was on Friday in the
riot week, that Emma and Dolly were rescued, by the
timely aid of Joe and Edward Chester — the distur-
bances were entirely quelled, and peace and order were
restored to the affrighted city. True, after what had
happened, it was impossible for any man to say how
long this better state of things might last, or how sud-
denly new outrages, exceeding even those so lately wit-
nessed, might burst forth and fill its streets with ruin
and bloodshed; for this reason, those who had fled from
the recent tumults still kept at a distance, and manyfam-
ilies, hitherto unable to procure the means of flight, now
availed themselves of the calm, and withdrew into the
country. The shops, too, from Tyburn to Whitechapel,
were still shut; and very little business was transacted
in any of the places of great commercial resort. But,
notwithstanding, and in spite of the melancholy fore-
bodings of that numerous class of society who see with
the greatest clearness into the darkest perspectives, the
town remained profoundly quiet. The strong military
force disposed in every advantageous quarter, and sta-
tioned at every commanding point, held the scattered
fragments of the mob in check ; the search after rioters
was prosecuted with unrelenting vigor; and if there
were any among them so desperate and reckless as to
be inclined, after the terrible scenes they had beheld,
196
BARNABY RUDGE.
to venture forth again, they were so daunted by these
resolute measures, that they quickly shrunk into their
hiding-places, and had no thought but for their personal
safety.
In a word, the crowd was utterly routed. Upwards
of two hundred had been shot dead in the streets. Two
hundred and fifty more were lying, badly wounded, in
the hospitals; of whom seventy or eighty died within a
short time afterwards. A hundred were already in cus-
.tody, and more were taken every hour. How many
perished in the conflagrations, or by their own excesses,
is unknown ; but that numbers found a terrible grave
in the hot ashes of the flames they had kindled, or crept
into vaults and cellars to drink in secret or to nurse
their sores, and never saw the light again, is certain.
When the embers of the fires had been black, and cold
for many weeks, the laborers' spades proved this, beyond
a doubt.
Seventy-two private houses and four strong jails were
destroyed in the four great days of these riots. The
total loss of property, as estimated by the sufferers, was
one hundred and fifty-five thousand pounds; at the
lowest and least partial estimate of disinterested per-
sons, it exceeded one hundred and twenty-five thousand
pounds. For this immense loss, compensation was soon
afterwards made out of the public purse, in pursuance
of a vote of the House of Commons; the sum being
levied on the various wards in the city, on the county,
and the borough of Southwark. Both Lord Mansfield
and Lord Saville, however, who had been great sufferers,
refused to accept of any compensation whatever.
The House of Commons, sitting on Tuesday with
locked and guarded doors, had passed a resolution to
BARNABY RtJDGE.
197
the effect that, as soon as the tumults subsided, it would
immediately proceed to consider the petitions presented
from many of his majesty's Protestant subjects, and
would take the same into its serious consideration.
While this question was under debate, Mr. Herbert,
one of the members present, indignantly rose and called
upon the House to observe that Lord George Gordon
was then sitting under the gallery with the blue cock-
ade, the signal of rebellion, in his hat. He was not
only obliged, by those who sat near, to take it out; but
offering to go into the street to pacify the mob with the
somewhat indefinite assurance that the House was pre-
pared to give them " the satisfaction they sought," was
actually held down in his seat by the combined force
of several members. In short, the disorder and vio-
lence which reigned triumphant out of doors, penetrated
into the senate, and there, as elsewhere, terror and
alarm prevailed, and ordinary forms were for the time
forgotten.
On the Thursday, both Houses had adjourned until
the following Monday se'nnight, declaring it impossible
to pursue their deliberations with the necessary gravity
and freedom, while they were surrounded by armed
troops. And now that the rioters were dispersed, the
citizens were beset with a new fear; for, finding the
public thoroughfares and all their usual places of resort
filled with soldiers intrusted with the free use of hre
and sword, they began to lend a greedy ear to the ru-
mors which were afloat of martial law being declared,
and to dismal stories of prisoners having been seen hang-
tag on lamp-posts in Cheapside and Fleet-street. These
terrors being promptly dispelled by a Proclamation de-
daring that all the rioters in custody would be tried by
198
BARNABY BUDGE.
a special commission in due course of law, a fresh alarm
was engendered by its being whispered abroad that
French money had been found on some of the rioters,
and that the disturbances had been fomented by for-
eign powers who sought to compass the overthrow and
ruin of England. This report, which was strengthened
by the diffusion of anonymous hand-bills, but which, if
it had any foundation at all, probably owed its origin
to the circumstance of some few coins which were not
English money having been swept into the pockets of
the insurgents with other miscellaneous booty, and after-
wards discovered on the prisoners or the dead bodies,
— caused a great sensation ; and men's minds being in
that excited state when they are most apt to catch at
any shadow of apprehension, was bruited about with
much industry.
All remaining quiet, however, during the whole of
this Friday, and on this Friday night, and no new dis-
coveries being made, confidence began to be restored,
and the most timid and desponding breathed again. In
Southwark, no fewer than three thousand of the inhab-
itants formed themselves into a watch, and patrolled
the streets every hour. Nor were the citizens slow to
follow so good an example: and it being the, manner
of peaceful men to be very bold when the danger is
over, they were abundantly fierce and daring; not
scrupling to question the stoutest passenger with great
severity, and carrying it with a very high hand over
all errand-boys, servant-girls, and 'prentices.
As day deepened into evening, and darkness crept
into the nooks and corners of the town as if it were
mustering in secret and gathering strength to venture
into the open ways, Barnaby sat in his dungeon, won-
BARNABY RUDGE.
199
dering at the silence, and listening in vain for the noise
and outcry which had ushered in the night of late.
Beside him, with his hand in hers, sat one in whose
companionship he felt at peace. She was worn and
altered, full of grief, and heavy-hearted; but the same
to hint.
" Mother," he said, after a long silence: " how long,
— how many days and nights, — shall I be kept here ? "
"Not many, dear. I hope not many."
"You hope! Ay, but your hoping will not undo
these chains. 1 hope, but they don't mind that. Grip
hopes, but who cares for Grip?"
The raven gave a short, dull, melancholy croak. It
said " Nobody," as plainly as a croak could speak.
" Who cares for Grip, excepting you and me ? " said
Barnaby, smoothing the bird's rumpled feathers with
his hand. " He never speaks in this place; he never
says a word in jail; he sits and mopes all day in this
dark corner, dozing sometimes, and sometimes looking
at the light that creeps in through the bars, and shines
in his bright eye as if a spark from those great fires
had fallen into the room and was burning yet. But
who cares for Grip ? "
The raven croaked again — Nobody.
"And by the way," said Barnaby, withdrawing his
hand from the bird, and laying it upon his mother's
arm, as he looked eagerly in her face ; " if they kill
me — they may : I heard it said they would — what
will become of Grip when I am dead ?"
The sound of the word, or the current of his own
thoughts, suggested to Grip his old phrase " Never
eay die! " But lie stopped short in the middle of il,
drew a dismal cork, and subsided into a faint croak,
200
BARNABY RUDGE.
as if he lacked the heart to get through the shortest
sentence.
" Will they take his life as well as mine ? " said Bar-
naby. " I wish they would. If you and I and he could
die together, there would be none to feel sorry, or to
grieve for us. But do what they will, I don't fear
them, mother !"
" They will not harm you," she said, her tears cliok-
ing her utterance. " They never will harm you, when
they know all. I am sure they never will."
" Oh ! Don't you be too sure of that," cried Bar-
naby, with a strange pleasure in the belief that she was
self-deceived, and in his own sagacity. " They have
marked me, mother, from the first. I heard them say
so to each other when they brought me to this place
last night; and I believe them. Don't you cry for me.
They said that T was bold, and so I am, and so I will
be. You may think that I am silly, but I can die as
well as another. — I have done no harm, have I ? " he
added quickly.
" None before Heaven," she answered.
" Why then," said Barnaby, " let them do their worst.
You told me once — you — when I asked you what
death meant, that it was nothing to be feared, if we did
no harm — Aha ! mother, you thought I had forgotten
that!"
His merry laugh and playful manner smote her to
the heart. She drew him closer to her, and besought
him to talk to her in whispers, and to be very quiet, for
ft was getting dark, and their time was short, and she
would soon have to leave him for the night.
"You will come to-morrow?" said Barnaby.
Yes. And every day. And they would never part
again.
BARNABY RUDGE.
201
He joyfully replied that this was well, ani what he
wished, and what he had felt quite certain she would
tell him ; and then he asked her where she had been
so long, and why she had not come to see him when he
was a great soldier, and ran through the wild schemes
he had had for their being rich and living prosperously,
and, with some faint notion in his mind that she was
sad and he had made her so, tried to console and com-
fort her, and talked of their former life and his old
sports and freedom: little dreaming that every word he
uttered only increased her sorrow, and that her tears
fell faster at the freshened recollection of their lost
tranquillity.
" Mother," said Barnaby, as they heard the man ap-
proaching to close the cells for the night, " when I spoke
to you just now about my father you cried ' Hush !' and
turned away your head. Why did you do so? Tell
me why, in a word. You thought he was dead. You
are not sorry that he is alive and has come hack to us.
Where is he? Here?"
" Do not ask any one where he is, or speak about
him," she made answer.
" Why not ? " said Barnaby. " Because he is a stern
man, and talks roughly? Well, I don't like him, or
want to be with him by myself; but why not speak about
him ? "
" Because I am sorry that he is alive ; sorry that he
has come back ; and sorry that he and you have ever
met. Because, dear Barnaby, the endeavor of my life
has been to keep you two asunder."
" Father and son asunder ! Why ? "
" He has," she whispered in his ear, " he has shed
blood. The time has come when you must know it
202
UAKNABY RUDGE.
He nas shed the blood of one who loved him well,
and trusted h m, and never did him wrong in word 01
deed."
Barnaby recoiled in horror, and glancing at his stained
wrist for an instant, wrapped it, shuddering, in his dress.
" But," she added hastily as the key turned in the
lock, " and although we shun him, he is your father,
dearest, and I am his wretched wife. They seek his
life, and he will lose it. It must not be by our means;
nay, if we could win him back to penitence, we should
be bound to love him yet Do not seem to know him,
except as one who fled with you from the jail, and if
they question you about him, do not answer them. God
be with you through the night, dear boy ! God be with
you !"
She tore herself away, and in a few seconds Barnaby
was alone. He stood for a long time rooted to the spot,
with his face hidden in his hands; then flung himself,
sobbing, upon his miserable bed.
But the moon came slowly up in all her gentle glory,
and the stars looked out, and through the small compass
of the grated window, as through the narrow crevice of
one good deed in a murky life of guilt, the face of
Heaven shone bright and merciful. He raised his head;
gazed upward at the quiet sky, which seemed to smile
upon the earth in sadness, as if the night, more thought-
ful than the day, looked down in sorrow on I he sufferings
«nd evil deeds of men ; and felt its peace sink deep
into his heart. He, a poor idiot, caged in his narrow
cell, was as much lifted up to God, while gazing on the
mild light, as the freest and most favored man in all the
spacious city ; and in his ill-remembered prayer, and in
the fragment of the childish hymn, with which he sung
BAKNAT.Y KL'DGE.
208
and crooned himself asleep, there breathed as true a
spirit as ever)Cstudied homily expressed, or oil cathe-
dral arches echoed.
As his mother crossed a yard on her way out, she
saw, through a grated door which separated it from
another court, her husband, walking round and round,
with his hands folded on his breast, and his head hung
down. She asked the man who conducted her, if she
might speak a word with this prisoner. Yes, but she
must be quick, for he was locking up for the night, and
there was but a minute or so to spare. Saying this, he
unlocked the door, and bade her go in.
It grated harshly as it turned upon its hinges, but he
was deaf to the noise, and still walked round and round
the little court, without raising his head or changing his
attitude in the least. She spoke to him, but her voice
was weak, and failed her. At length she put herself in
his track, and when he came near, stretched out her
band and touched him.
He stai ted backward, trembling from head to foot;
but seeing who it was, demanded why she came there.
Before she could reply, he spoke again.
" Am J to live or die ? Do you do murder too, or
spare ? "
"My son—our son," she answered, "is in this prison."
"What is that to me?" he cried, stamping impatiently
on the stone pavement. " I know it. He can no more
aid me than I can aid him. If you are come to talk of
him, begone ! "
As he spoke he resumed his walk, and hurried round
the court as before. When he came again to where she
stood: he stopped, and said, —
" Am I to live or die ? Do you repent ? "
204
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Oh ! — do you ? " she answered. " Will you, while
time remains? Do not believe that I could save you,
if I dared."
. " Say if you would," he answered with an oath as he
tried to disengage himself and pass on. " Say if you
would."
" Listen to me for one moment," she returned; " for
but a moment. I am but newly risen from a sick-bed,
from which I never hoped to rise again. The best
among us think, at such a time, of good intentions half-
performed and duties left undone. If I have ever, since
that fatal night, omitted to pray for your repentance be-
fore death — if I omitted, even then, anything which
might tend to urge it on you when the horror of your
crime was fresh — if, in our later meeting, I yielded to
the dread that was upon me, and forgot to fall upon my
knees and solemnly adjure you, in the name of him you
sent to his account with Heaven, to prepare for the ret-
ribution which must come, and which is stealing on you
now — I humbly before you, and in the agony of sup-
plication in which you see me, beseech that you will let
me make atonement."
"What is the meaning of your canting words?" he an-
swered roughly. " Speak so that I may understand you.*
" I will," she answered, " I desire to. Bear with me
for a moment more. The hand of Him who set his
curse on murder, is heavy on us now. You cannot
doubt it. Our son, our innocent boy, on whom His an-
ger fell before his birth, is in this place in peril of his
life — brought here by your guilt; yes, by that alone,
as Heaven sees and knows, for he has been led astray
in the darkness of his intellect, and that is the terrible
consequence of your crime."
liARNABY RUDGE.
205
u If yon come, woman-like, to load me with re-
proaches " — he muttered, again endeavoring to break
away.
— " I do not. I have a different purpose. You must
hear it. If not to-night, to-morrow; if not to-morrow,
at another time. You must hear it. Husband, escape
is hopeless — impossible."
" You tell me so, do you ? " he said, raising his man-
acled hand, and shaking it " You 1"
" Yes," she said with indescribable earnestness. " But
why ? "
" To make me easy in this jail. To make the time
'twixt this and death, pass pleasantly. For my good —
yes, for my good, of course," he said, grinding his teeth,
and smiling at her with a livid face.
" Not to load you with reproaches," she replied ; " not
to aggravate the tortures and miseries of your condition
not to give you one hard word, but to restore you to
peace and hope. Husband, dear husband, if you will
but confess this dreadful crime; if you will but implore
forgiveness of Heaven and of those whom you have
wronged on earth; if you will dismiss these vain un-
easy thoughts, which never can be realized, and will
rely on Penitence and on the Truth, I promise you, in
the great name of the Creator, whose image you have
defaced, that He will comfort and console you. And
for myself," she cried, clasping her hands, and looking
upward, " I swear before Him, as He knows my hear
and reads it now, that from that hour I will love and
cherish you as I did of old, and watch you night and
day in the short interval that will remain to us,, and
soothe you with my truest love and duty, and pray with
you, that one threatening judgment may be arrested, and
206
BAKNABY BUDGE.
that our boy may be spared to bless God, in his poor
way, in the free air and light!"
He fell back and gazed at her while she poured out
these words, as though he were for a moment awed by
her manner, and knew not what to do. But anger and
fear soon got the mastery of him, and he spurned her
from him.
" Begone !" he cried. " Leave me ; You plot, do
you ! You plot to get speech with me, and let them
know I am the man they say I am. A curse on you
and on your boy."
"On him the curse has already fallen," she replied,
wringing her hands.
" Let it fall heavier. Let it fall on one and all. I
hate you both. The worst has come to me. The only
comfort that I seek or I can have, will be the knowledge
that it comes to you. Now go !"
She would have urged him gently, even then, but he
menaced her with his chain.
" I say go — I say it for the last time. The gallows
has me in its grasp, and it is a black phantom that may
urge me on to something more. Begone! I curse the
hour that I was born, the man I slew, and all the living
world!"
In a paroxysm of wrath, and terror, and the fear of
death, he broke from her, and rushed into the darkness
of his cell, where he cast himself jangling down upon
the stone floor, and smote it with his iron hands. The
man returned to lock the dungeon-door, and having done
60, carried her away.
On that warm, balmy night in June, there were glad
faces and light hearts in all quarters of the town, and
Eleep, banished by the late horrors, was doubly welcomed.
BAKNABY KUDGE-
207
On that night, families made merry in their houses, and
greeted each other on the common danger they had
escaped ; and tho.-e who had been denounced, ventured
into the streets ; and they who had been plundered, got
good shelter. Even the timorous Lord Mayor, who was
summoned that night before the Privy Council to an-
swer for his conduct, came back contented ; observing to
all his friends that he had got off very well with a repri-
mand, and repeating with huge satisfaction his memo-
rable defence before the Council, " that such was his
temerity, he thought death would have been his potion."
On that night, too, more of the scattered remnants of
the mob were traced to their lurking-places, and taken;
and in the hospitals, and deep among the ruins they had
made, and in the ditches, and the fields, many unshrouded
wretches lay dead: envied by those who had been active
in the disturbances, and who pillowed their doomed heads
in the temporary jails.
And in the Tower, in a dreary room whose thick stone
walls shut out the hum of life, and made a stillness which
the records left by former prisoners with those silent wit-
nesses seemed to deepen and intensify ; remorseful for
every act that had been done by every man among the
cruel crowd; feeling for the time their guilt his own, and
their lives put in peril by himself; and finding, amidst
such reflections, little comfort in fanaticism, or in his
fancied call; sat the unhappy author of all - - Lord
George Gordon.
He had been made prisoner that evening. " If you
are sure it's me you want," he said to the officer, who
waited outside with the warrant for his arrest on a
charge of High Treason, " I am ready to accompany
you " — which he did without resistance. He was con-
208
BARNABY RUDGE.
ducted first before the Privy Council, and afterwards «
the Horse Guards, and then was taken by way of West-
minster Bridge, and back over London Bridge (for the
purpose of avoiding the main streets), to the Tower,
under the strongest guard ever known to enter its gates
with a single prisoner.
Of all his forty thousand men, not one remained to
bear him company. Friends, dependents, followers, —
none were there. His fawning secretary had played
the traitor; and he whose weakness had been goaded
and urged on by so many for their own purposes, was
desolate and alone.
BA.RNABY RDDGE.
209
CHAPTER LXXIY.
Mb. Dennis, having been made prisoner late in the
evening, was removed to a neighboring round-house for
that night, and carried before a justice for examination
on the next day, Saturday. The charges against him
being numerous and weighty, and it being in particular
proved, by the testimony of Gabriel Varden, that he had
shown a special desire to take his life, he was committed
for trial. Moreover he was honored with the distinction
of being considered a chief among the insurgents, and
received from the magistrate's lips the complimentary
assurance that he was in a position of imminent danger,
and would do well to prepare himself for the worst.
To say that Mr. Dennis's modesty was not somewhat
startled by these honors, or that he was altogether pre-
pared for so flattering a reception, would be to claim for
him a greater amount of stoical philosophy than even he
possessed. Indeed this gentleman's stoicism was of that
not uncommon kind, which enables a man to bear with
exemplary fortitude the afflictions of his friends, but
renders him, by way of counterpoise, rather selfish and
sensitive in respect of any that happen to befall himself.
It is therefore no disparagement to the great officer in
question to state, without disguise or concealment, that
he was at first very much alarmed, and that he betrayed
divers emotions of fear, until his reasoning powers came
to his relief, and set before him a more hopeful prospect.
vol. m. 14
210
BARNABY BUDGE.
In proportion as Mr. Dennis exercised these intel-
lectual qualities with which he was gifted, in reviewing
his best chances of coming off handsomely and with small
personal inconvenience, his spirits rose, and his coufi-
dence increased. When he remembered the great esti-
mation in which his office was held, and the constant
demand for his services; when he bethought himself,
how the Statute Book regarded him as a kind of Univer-
sal Medicine applicable to men, women, and children, of
every age and variety of criminal constitution ; and how
high he stood, in his official capacity, in the favor of the
Crown, and both Houses of Parliament, the Mint, the
Bank of England, and the Judges of the land ; when he
recollected that whatever ministry was in or out, he re-
mained their peculiar pet and panacea, and that for his
sake England stood single and conspicuous among the
civilized nations of the earth: when he called these
things to mind and dwelt upon them, he felt certain that
the national gratitude must relieve him from the con-
sequences of his late proceedings, and would certaiuly
restore him to his old place in the happy social sys-
tem.
With these crumbs, or as one may say, with these
whole loaves of comfort to regale upon, Mr. Dennis took
his place among the escort that awaited him, and re-
paired to jail with a manly indifference. Arriving at
Newgate, where some of the ruined cells had been
hastily fitted up for the safe-keeping of rioters; he was
warmly received by the turnkeys, as an unusual and in-
teresting case, which agreeably relieved their monoto-
nous duties. In this spirit, he was fettered with great
care, and conveyed into the interior of the prison.
" Brother," cried the hangman, as, following an officer,
BARNABY RUDGE.
211
he traversed under these novel circumstances the remains
of passages with which he was well acquainted, " an. I
going to be along with anybody?"
" If you'd have left more walls standing, you'd have
been alone," was the reply. " As it is, we're cramped
for room, and you'll have company."
"Well," returned Dennis, "I don't object to com-
pany, brother. I rather like company. I was formed
lor society, I was."
" That's rather a pity, a'n't it ? " said the man.
" No," answered Dennis, " I'm not aware that it is.
Why should it be a pity, brother?"
" Oh! I don't know," said the man carelessly. " 1
thought that was what you meant. Being formed for
society, and being cut off in your flower, you know " —
" I say," interposed the other quickly, " what are you
talking of? Don't. Who's a-going to be cut off in their
flowers ? "
" Oh, nobody particular. I thought you was, per-
haps," said the man.
Mr. Dennis wiped his face, which had suddenly grown
very hot, and remarking in a tremulous voice to his con-
ductor that he had always been fond of his joke, followed
him in silence until he stopped at a door.
" This is my quarters, is it ? " he asked facetiously.
" This is the shop, sir," replied his friend.
He was walking in, but not with the best possible
grace, when he suddenly stopped, and started back.
" Halloa ! " said the officer. " You're nervous."
"Nervous!" whispered Dennis in great alarm. " Well
I may be. Shut the door."
" I will, when you're in," returned the man.
"But 1 can't go in there," whispered Dennis. "I
212
BARNABY RUDGE.
can't be shut up with that man. Do you want me to
be throttled, brother?"
The officer seemed to entertain no particular desire on
the subject one way or other, but briefly remarking that
he had his orders, and intended to obey them, pushed
him in, turned the key, and retired.
Dennis stood trembling with his back against the door,
and involuntarily raising his arm to defend himself,
stared at a man, the only other tenant of the cell, who
lay, stretched at his full length, upon a stone bench, and
who paused in his deep breathing as if he were about to
wake. But he rolled over on one side, let his arm fall
negligently down, drew a long sigh, and murmuring in-
distinctly, fell fast asleep again.
Relieved in some degree by this, the hangman took
his eyes for an instant from the slumbering figure, and
glanced round the cell in search of some 'vantage-ground
or weapon of defence. There was nothing movable
within it, but a clumsy table which could not be displaced
without noise, and a heavy chair. Stealing on tiptoe
towards this latter piece of furniture, he retired with it
into the remotest corner, and intrenching himself behind
it, watched the enemy with the utmost vigilance and
caution.
The sleeping man was Hugh; and perhaps it was not
unnatural for Dennis to feel in a state of very uncom-
fortable suspense, and to wish with his whole soul that
he might never wake again. Tired of standing, he
crouched down in his corner after some time, and rested
on the cold pavement; but although Hugh's breathing
still proclaimed that he was sleeping soundly, he could
not trust him out of his sight for an instant. He was so
afraid of him, and of some sudden onslaught, that he was
BAKNABY RUDGE.
213
not content to see his closed eyes through the chair-back,
but every now and then, rose stealthily to his feet, and
peered at him with outstretched neck, to assure himself
that he really was still asleep, and was not about to
spring upon him when he was off his guard.
He slept so long and so soundly, that Mr. Dennis be-
gan to think he might sleep on until the turnkey visited
them. He was congratulating himself uporl these prom-
ising appearances, and blessing his stars with much fer-
vor, when one or two unpleasant symptoms manifested
themselves; such as another motion of the arm, another
sigh, a restless tossing of the head. Then, just as it
seemed that he was about to fall heavily to the ground
from his narrow bed, Hugh's eyes opened.
It happened that his face was turned directly towards
his unexpected visitor. He looked lazily at him for some
half-dozen seconds without any aspect of surprise or ree-
ognition; then suddenly jumped up, and with a great
oath pronounced his name.
" Keep off, brother, keep off!" cried Dennis, dodging
behind the chair. " Don't do me a mischief. I'm a
prisoner like you. I haven't the free use of my limbs.
I'm quite an old man. Don't hurt me!"
He whined out the last three words in such piteous
accents, that Hugh, who had dragged away the chair, and
aimed a blow at him with it, checked himself, and bade
him get up.
" I'll get up certainly, brother," cried Dennis, anxious
to propitiate him by any means in his power, " I'll com-
ply with any request of yours, I'm sure. There — I'm
up now. What can I do for you ? Only say the word,
and I'll do it."
" What can you do for me!" cried Hugh, clutching
214
BAKNABY RUDGE.
him by the collar with both hands, and shaking him as
though he were bent on stopping his breath by that
means. " What have you done for me ? "
"The best. The best that could be done," returned
the hangman.
Hugh made him no answer, but shaking him in his
6trong gripe until his teeth chattered in his head, cast
him down upon the floor, and flung himself on the bench
again.
" If it wasn't for the comfort it is to me, to see you
here," he muttered, " I'd have crushed your head against
it; I would."
It was some time before Dennis had breath enough to
speak, but as soon as he could resume his propitiatory
strain, he did so.
"I did the best that could be done, brother," he
whined; " I did indeed. I was forced with two bayo-
nets and I don't know how many bullets on each side of
me, to point you out. If you hadn't been taken, you'd
have been shot; and what a sight that would have been
— a fine young man like you !"
"Will it be a better sight now ?" asked Hugh, raising
his head, with such a fierce expression, that the other
durst not answer him just then.
" A deal better," said Dennis meekly, after a pause.
"First, there's all the chances of the law, and they're
five hundred strong. We may get off scot-free. Un-
likelier things than that, have come to pass. Even if we
shouldn't, and the chances fail, we can but be worked off"
once: and when it's well done, it's so neat, so skilful, so
Taptiwating, if that don't seem too strong a word, that
you'd hardly believe it could bo brought to sich perfec-
tion. Kill one's fellow-creeturs off, with muskets ! —
BARNABY RUDGE.
215
Pah ! " and his nature so revolted at the bare idea, that
he spat upon the dungeon pavement.
His warming on this topic, which to one unacquainted
with his pursuits and tastes appeared like courage; to-
gether with his artful suppression of his own secret
hopes, and mention of himself as being in the same con-
dition with Hugh; did more to soothe that ruffian than
the most elaborate arguments could have done, or the
most abject submission. He rested his arms upon his
knees, and stooping forward, looked from beneath his
shaggy hair at Dennis, with something of a smile upon
his face.
" The fact is, brother," said the hangman, in a tone of
greater confidence, "that you got into bad company.
The man that was with you was looked after more than
you, and it was him I wanted. As to me, what have I
got by it ? Here we are, in one and the same plight."
" Lookee, rascal," said Hugh, contracting his brows,
"I'm not altogether such a shallow blade but I know
you expected to get something by it, or you wouldn't
have done it. But it's done, and .you're here, and it will
soon be all over with you and me; and I'd as soon die
as live, or live as die. Why should I trouble myself to
have revenge on you ? To eat, and drink, and go to
sleep, as long as I stay here, is all I care for. If there
was but a little more sun to bask in, than can find its
way into this cursed place, I'd lie in it all day, and not
trouble myself to sit or stand up once. That's all the
care I have for myself. Why should I care for you ! "
Finishing this speech with a growl like the j-awn of a
wild beast, he stretched himself upon the bench again,
and closed his eyes once more.
After looking at him in silence for some moments,
216
BARNABY RUDGE.
Dennis, who was greatly relieved to find him in this
mood, drew the chair towards his rough couch and sat
down near him — taking the precaution, however, to
keep out of the range of his brawny arm.
" Well said, brother; nothing could be better said,"
he ventured to observe. " We'll eat and drink of the
best, and sleep our best, and make the best of it every
way. Anything can be got for money. Let's spend it
merrily."
" Ay," said Hugh, coiling himself into a new position.
— " Where is it ? "
"Why, they took mine from me at the lodge," said
Mr. Dennis; "but mine's a peculiar case."
" Is it ? They took mine too."
" Why then, I tell you what, brother," Dennis began.
"You must look up your friends" —
" My friends!" cried Hugh, starting up and resting
on his hands. "Where are my friends?"
"Your relations then," said Dennis.
" Ha, ha, ha! " laughed Hugh, waving one arm above
his head. " He talks of friends to me — talks of rela-
tions to a man whose mother died the death in store for
her son, and left him, a hungry brat, without a face he
knew in all the world ! He talks of this to me!"
" Brother," cried the hangman, whose features under-
went a sudden change, " you don't mean to say " —
" I mean to say," Hugh interposed, " that they hung
her up at Tyburn. What was good enough for her, is
good enough for me. Let them do the like by me as
soon as they please — the sooner the better. Say no
more to me. I'm going to sleep."
" But I want to speak to you; I want to hear more
about that," said Dennis, changing color.
BARNABY RUDGE.
217
" If you're a wise man," growled Hugh, raising his
head to look at him with a frown, " you'll hold your
tongue. I tell you I'm going to sleep."
Dennis venturing to say something more in spite of
this caution, the desperate fellow struck at him with all
his force, and missing him, lay down again with many
muttered oaths and imprecations, and turned his face
towards the wall. After two or three ineffectual twitches
at his dress, which he was hardy enough to venture upon,
notwithstanding his dangerous humor, Mr. Dennis, who
burnt, for reasons of his own, to pursue the conversation,
had no alternative but to sit as patiently as he could:
waiting his further pleasure.
218
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER LXXV.
A monih Las elapsed, — and we stand in the bed-
chamber of Sir John Chester. Through the half-opened
window, the Temple Garden looks green and pleasant;
the placid liver, gay with boat and barge, and dimpled
with the plash of many an oar, sparkles in the distance;
the sky is blue and clear; and the summer air steals
gently in, filling the room with perfume. The very
town, the smoky town, is radiant. High roofs and
steeple tops, wont to look black and sullen, smile a
cheerful gray; every old gilded vane, and ball, and
cross, glitters anew in the bright morning sun; and,
high among them all, St. Paul's towers up, showing its
lofty crest in burnished gold.
Sir John was breakfasting in bed. His chocolate and
toast stood upon a little table at his elbow; books and
newspapers lay ready to his hand upon the coverlet; and,
sometimes pausing to glance with an air of tranquil satis-
faction round the well-ordered room, and sometimes to
gaze indolently at the summer sky, he ate, and drank,
and read the news luxuriously.
The cheerful influence of the morning seemed to have
some effect, even upon his equable temper. His manner
was unusually gay; his smile more placid and agreeable
than usual; his voice more clear and pleasant. He laid
down the newspaper he had been reading; leaned back
upon his pillow with the air of one who resigned himself
BARNABY RUDGE.
219
to a train of charming recollections ; and after a pause,
soliloquized as follows : —
" And my friend the centaur, goes the way of his
mama 1 I am not surprised. And his mysterious friend
Mr. Dennis, likewise 1 I am not surprised. And my old
postman, the exceedingly free and easy young madman
of Chigwell! I am quite rejoiced. It's the very best
thing that could possibly happen to him."
After delivering himself of these remarks, he fell again
into his smiling train of reflection ; from which he roused
himself at length to finish his chocolate, which was get-
ting cold, and ring the bell for more.
The new supply arriving, he took the cup from his
servant's hand; and saying, with a charming affability,
"I am obliged to you, Peak," dismissed him.
" It is a remarkable circumstance," he mused, dallying
lazily with the teaspoon, "that my friend the madman
should have been within an ace of escaping, on his trial;
and it was a good stroke of chance (or, as the world
would say, a providential occurrence) that the brother
of my Lord Mayor should have been in court, with
other country justices, into whose very dense heads
curiosity had penetrated. For though the brother of
my Lord Mayor was decidedly wrong; and established
his near relationship to that amusing person beyond all
doubt, in stating that my friend was sane, and had, to
his knowledge, wandered about the country with a vaga-
bond parent, avowing revolutionary and rebellious senti-
ments ; I am not the less obliged to him for volunteering
that evidence. These insane creatures make such very
odd and embarrassing remarks, that they really ought to
\>e hanged for the comfort of society."
The country justice had indeed turned the wavering
220
BARNABY RUDGE.
scale against poor Barnaby, and solved the doubt that
trembled in his favor. Grip little thought how much he
had to answer for.
" They will be a singular party," said Sir John, lean-
ing his head upon his hand, and sipping his chocolate;
" a very curious party. The hangman himself; the cen-
taur; and the madman. The centaur would make a
very handsome preparation in Surgeons' Hall, and would
benefit science extremely. I hope they have taken care
to bespeak him. — Peak, I am not at home, of course, to
anybody but the hair-dresser."
This reminder to his servant was called forth by a
knock at the door, which the man hastened to open.
After a prolonged murmur of question and answer, he
returned; and as he cautiously closed the room-door be-
hind him, a man was heard to cough in the passage.
" Now, it is of no use Peak," said Sir John, raising
his hand in deprecation of his delivering any message;
" I am not at home. I cannot possibly hear you. I told
you I was not at home, and my word is sacred. Will
you never do as you are desired ? "
Having nothing to oppose to this reproof, the man was
about to withdraw, when the visitor who had given
occasion to it, probably rendered impatient by delay,
knocked with his knuckles at the chamber-door, and
called out that he had urgent business with Sir John
Chester, which admitted of no delay.
" Let him in," said Sir John. " My good fellow," he
added, when the door was opened, " how come you to in-
trude yourself in this extraordinary manner upon the
privacy of a gentleman ? How can you be so wholly
destitute of self-respect as to be guilty of such remark-
able ill-breeding ? "
BARNABY RDD6E.
221
" My business, Sir John, is not of a common kind, I
do assure you," returned the person he addressed. " If
I have taken any uncommon course to get admission to
you, I hope I shall be pardoned on that account."
"Well! we shall see; we shall see;" returned Sir
John, whose face cleared up when he saw who it was,
and whose prepossessing smile was now restored. " I
am sure we have met before," he added in his winning
tone, "but really I forget your name ? "
" My name is Gabriel Yarden, sir."
" Varden, of course, Varden," returned Sir John, tap*
ping his forehead. " Dear me, how very defective my
memory becomes! Varden to be sure — Mr. Varden
the locksmith. You have a charming wife, Mr. Varden,
and a most beautiful daughter. They are well ?"
Gabriel thanked him, and said they were.
"I rejoice to hear it," said Sir John. " Commend me
to them when you return, and say that I wished I were
fortunate enough to convey, myself, the salute which I
intrust you to deliver. And what," he asked very
sweetly, after a moment's pause, " can I do for you ?
You may command me, freely."
" I thank you, Sir John," said Gabriel, with some
pride in his manner, " but I have come to ask no fa-
vor of you, though I come on business. — Private," he
added, with a glance at the man, who stood looking on,
"and very pressing business."
"I cannot say you are the more welcome for being
independent, and having nothing to ask of me," returned
Sir John, graciously, " for I should have been happy to
render you a service; still, you are welcome on any
terms. Oblige me with some more chocolate, Peak,
Mid don't wait."
222
BARNABY RUDGE.
The man retired, and left them alone.
" Sir John," said Gabriel, "I am a working-man, and
have been so, all my life. If I don't prepare you enough
for what I have to tell; if I come to the point too ab-
ruptly; and give you a shock, which a gentleman could
have spared you, or at all events lessened very much; I
hope you will give me credit for meaning well. I wish
to be careful and considerate, and I trust that in a
straightforward person like me, you'll take the will for
the deed."
" Mr. Yarden," returned the other, perfectly composed
under this exordium ; " I beg you'll take a chair. Choc*
olate, perhaps, you don't relish ? Well! it is an acquired
taste, no doubt."
" Sir John," said Gabriel, who had acknowledged with
a bow the invitation to be seated, but had not availed
himself of it: " Sir John " — he dropped his voice and
drew nearer to the bed—"I am just now come from
Newgate " —
" Good Gad !" cried Sir John, hastily sitting up in
bed ; " from Newgate, Mr. Varden ! How could you be
so very imprudent as to come from Newgate! Newgate,
where there are jail-fevers, and ragged people, and bare-
footed men and women, and a thousand horrors ! Pe^t,
bring the camphor, quick ! Heaven and earth, Mr. Var-
den, my dear, good soul, how could you come from New-
gate ? "
Gabriel returned no answer, but looked on in silence
while Peak (who had entered opportunely with the hot
chocolate) ran to a drawer, and returning with a bottle,
sprinkled his master's dressing-gown and the bedding ;
and besides moistening the locksmith himself, plentifully,
described a circle round about him on the carpet. Wben
BARNABY BUDGE.
223
he had done this, he again retired; and Sir John, reclin-
ing in an easy attitude upon his pillow, once more turned
a smiling face towards his visitor.
* You will forgive me, Mr. Yarden, I am sure, for
being at first a little sensitive both on your account and
my own. I confess I was startled, notwithstanding your
delicate exordium. Might I ask you to do me the favor
not to approach any nearer ? — You have really come
from Newgate!"
The locksmith inclined his head.
" In-deed! And now, Mr. Varden, all exaggeration
and embellishment apart," said Sir John Chester, confi-
dentially, as he sipped his chocolate, " what kind of
place is Newgate?"
"A strange place, Sir John," returned the locksmith,
" of a sad and doleful kind. A strange place, where
many strange things are heard and seen; but few more
strange than that I come to tell you of. The case is
urgent. I am sent here."
" Not — no, no — not from the jail ? "
"Yes, Sir John ; from the jail."
" And my good, credulous, open-hearted friend," said
Sir John, setting down his cup, and laughing, — " by
whom ? "
" By a man called Dennis — for many yes rs the hang-
man, and to-morrow morning the hanged," icturned the
locksmith.
Sir John had expected — had been quite certain from
the first — that he would say he had come from Hugh,
ana was prepared to meet him on that point. But
this answer occasioned him a degree of astonishment,
which, for the moment, he could not, with all his com-
mand of feature, prevent his face from expressing. He
224
BARNABY RUDGE.
quickly subdued it, however, and said in the same light
tone:
" And what does the gentleman require of me ? My
memory may be at fault again, but I don't recollect that
I ever had the pleasure of an introduction to him, or
that I ever numbered him among my personal friends, I
do assure you, Mr. Yarden.",
" Sir John," returned the locksmith, gravely, " I
will tell you, as nearly as I can, in the words he used
to me, what he desires that you should know, and
what you ought to know without a moment's loss of
time."
Sir John Chester settled himself in a position of
greater repose, and looked at his visitor with an expres-
sion of face which seemed to say, " This is an amusing
fellow ! I'll hear him out."
" You may have seen in the newspapers, sir," said
Gabriel, pointing to the one which lay by his side, " that
I was a witness against this man upon his trial some
days since; and that it was not his fault I was alive, and
able to speak to what I knew."
" May have seen! " cried Sir John. " My dear Mr.
Varden, you are quite a public character, and live in all
men's thoughts most deservedly. Nothing can exceed
the interest with which I read your testimony, and re-
membered that I had the pleasure of a slight acquaint-
ance with you. — I hope we shall have your portrait
published ? "
"This morning, sir," said the locksmith, taking no
notice of these compliments, " early this morning, a mes-
sage was brought to me from Newgate, at this man's
•equest, desiring that I would go and see him, for he had
something particular to communicate. I needn't tell you
BARNABY BUDGE.
225
that he is no friend of mine, and that I had never seen
him, until the rioters beset my house."
Sir John fanned himself' gently with the newspaper,
and nodded.
" I knew, however, from the general report," resumed
Gabriel, " that the order for his execution to-morrow,
went down to the prison last night; and looking upon
him as a dying man, I complied with his request."
" You are quite a Christian, Mr. Varden," said Sir
John ; " and in that amiable capacity, you increase my
desire that you should take a chair."
" He said," continued Gabriel, looking steadily at the
knight, " that he had sent to me, because he had no
friend or companion in the whole world (being the com-
mon hangman), and because he believed, from the way
in which I had given my evidence, that I was an honest
man, and would act truly by him. He said that, being
shunned by every one who knew his calling, even by
people of the lowest and most wretched grade, and find-
ing, when he joined the rioters, that the men he acted
with had no suspicion of it (which I believe is true
enough, for a poor fool of an old 'prentice of mine was
one of them) he had kept his own counsel, up to the
time of his being taken and put in jail."
"Very discreet of Mr. Dennis," observed Sir John
with a slight yawn, though still with the utmost affa-
bility, " but — except for your admirable and lucid
manner of telling it, which is perfect — not very inter-
esting to me."
" When," pursued the locksmith, quite unabashed and
wholly regardless of these interruptions, " when he was
taken to the jail, he found that his fellow- prisoner, in the
same room, was a young man, Hugh by name, a leader
vol. m. 15
226
BARNABY RUDGE.
in the riots, who had been betrayed and given up by
himself. From something which fell from this unhappy
creature in the course of the angry words they had at
meeting, he discovered that his mother had suffered the
death to which they both are now condemned. — The
time is very short, Sir John."
The knight laid down his paper fan, replaced his cup
upon the table at his side, and, saving for the smile that
lurked about his mouth, looked at the locksmith with as
much steadiness as the locksmith looked at him.
" They have been in prison now, a month. One con-
versation led to many more; and the hangman soon
found, from a comparison of time, and place, and dates,
that he had executed the sentence of the law upon this
woman, himself. She had been tempted by want — as
so many people are — into the easy crime of passing
forged notes. She was young and handsome; and the
traders who employ men, women, and children in this
traffic, looked upon her as one who was well adapted for
their business, and who would probably go on without
suspicion for a long time. But they were mistaken ; for
she was stopped in the commission of her very first
offence, and died for it. She was of gypsy blood, Sir
John " —
It might have been the effect of a passing cloud which
obscured the sun, and cast a shadow on his face ; but the
knight turned deadly pale. Still he met the locksmith's
eye, as before.
" She was of gypsy blood, Sir John," repeated Gabriel,
" and had a high, free spirit. This, and her good looks,
and her lofty manner, interested some gentlemen who
were easily moved by dark eyes; and efforts were made
to save her. They might have been successful, if she
BARNABY RTJDGE.
227
would have given them any clew to her history. But
she never would, or did. There was reason to suspect
that she would make an attempt upon her life. A watch
was set upon her night and day; and from that time she
never spoke again " —
Sir John stretched out his hand towards his cup. The
locksmith going on, arrested it half-way.
—" Until she had but a minute to live. Then she
broke silence, and said, in a low firm voice which no one
heard but this executioner, for all other living creatures
had retired and left her to her fate, ' If I had a dagger
within these fingers and he was within my reach, I
would strike him dead before me, even now !' The
man asked ' Who ? ' She said, The father of her
boy."
Sir John drew back his outstretched hand, and seeing
that the locksmith paused, signed to him with easy po-
liteness and without any new appearance of emotion, to
proceed.
"It was the first word she had ever spoken, from
which it could be understood that she had any relative
on earth. ' Was the child alive ? ' he asked. ' Yes.'
He asked her where it was, its name, and whether she
had any wish respecting it. She had but one, she said.
It was that the boy might live and grow, in utter igno-
ranee of his father, so that no arts might teach him to
be gentle and forgiving. When he became a man, she
trusted to the God of their tribe to bring the father and
the son together, and revenge her through her child.
He asked her other questions, but she spoke no more.
Indeed, he says she scarcely said this much, to him, but
stood with her face turned upwards to the sky, and
never looked towards him once."
228
BARNABY RUDGE.
Sir John took a pinch of snuff; glanced approvingly
at an elegant little sketch, entitled " Nature," on the
wall; and raising his eyes to the locksmith's face again,
said, with an air of courtesy and patronage, " You were
observing, Mr. Varden " —
" That she never," returned the locksmith, who was
not to be diverted by any artifice from his firm manner,
and his steady gaze, " that she never looked towards
him once, Sir John; and so she died, and he forgot her.
But, some years afterwards a man was sentenced to
die the same death, who was a gypsy too; a sunburnt,
swarthy fellow, almost a wild man; and while he lay in
prison, under sentence, he, who had seen the hangman
more than once while he was free, cut an image of him
on his stick, by way of braving death, and showing those
who attended on him, how little he cared or thought
about it. He gave this stick into his hands at Tyburn,
and told him then, that the woman I have spoken of had
left her own people to join a fine gentleman, and that,
being deserted by him, and cast off by her old friends,
she had sworn within her own proud breast, that what-
ever her misery might be, she would ask no help of any
human being. He told him that she had kept her word
to the last; and that, meeting even him in the streets —
he had been fond of her once, it seems — she had slipped
from him by a trick, and he never saw her again, until,
being in one of the frequent crowds at Tyburn, with
some of his rough companions, he had been driven al-
most mad by seeing, in the criminal under another name,
whose death he had come to witness, herself. Standing
in the same place in which she had stood, he told the
hangman this, and told him, too, her real name, which
only her own people and the gentleman for whose sake
BARNABY RUDGE.
229
she had left them, knew. — That name he will tell again,
Sir John, to none but you."
" To none but me ! " exclaimed the knight, pausing in
the act of raising his cup to his lips with a perfectly
steady hand, and curling up his little finger for the bet-
ter display of a brilliant ring with which it was orna-
mented: " but me ! — My dear Mr. Yarden, how very
preposterous, to select me for his confidence! With you
at his elbow, too, who are so perfectly trustworthy!"
" Sir John, Sir John," returned the locksmith, " at
twelve to-morrow, these men die. Hear the few words
I have to add, and do not hope to deceive me ; for
though I am a plain man of humble station, and you
are a gentleman of rank and learning, the truth raises
me to your level, and I know that you anticipate the
disclosure with which I am about to end, and that you
believe this doomed man, Hugh, to be your son."
" Nay," said Sir John, bantering him with a gay air ;
" the wild gentleman, who died so suddenly, scarcely went
as far as that, I think ? "
" He did not," returned the locksmith, " for she had
bound him by some pledge, known only to these people,
and which the worst among them respect, not to tell
your name: but, in a fantastic pattern on the stick, he
had carved some letters, and when the hangman asked
it, he bade him, especially if he should ever meet with
her son in after life, remember that place well."
" What place ? "
" Chester."
The knight finished his cup of chocolate with an ap-
pearance of infinite relish, and carefully wiped his lips
«pon his handkerchief.
" Sir John," said the locksmith, " this is all that has
230
BARNABY RUDGE.
been told to me; but since these two men have been
left for death, they have conferred together, closely.
See them, and hear what they can add. See this Den-
nis, and learn from him what he has not trusted to me.
If you, who hold the clew to all, want corroboration
(which you do not), the means are easy."
" And to what," said Sir John Chester, rising on his
elbow, after smoothing the pillow for its reception ; " my
dear, good-natured, estimable Mr. Yarden — with whom
I cannot be angry if I would — to what does all this
tend ?"
"I take you for a man, Sir John, and I suppose it
tends to some pleading of natural affection in your
breast," returned the locksmith. "I suppose to the strain-
ing of every nerve and the exertion of all the influence
you have, or can make, in behalf of your miserable son,
and the man who has disclosed his existence to you. At
the worst, I suppose to your seeing your son, and awak-
ening him to a sense of his crime and danger. He has
no such sense now. Think what his life must have
been, when he said in my hearing, that if I moved you
to anything, it would be to hastening his death, and en-
suring his silence, if you had it in your power!"
" And have you, my good Mr. Varden," said Sir John
in a tone of mild reproof, " have you really lived to
your present age, and remained so very simple and
credulous, as to approach a gentleman of established
character with such credentials as these, from desperate
men in their last extremity, catching at any straw ? Oh
dear ! Oh fie, fie ! "
The locksmith was going to interpose, but he stopped
him: —
" On any other subject, Mr. Varden, I shall be de-
BAKNABY RUDGE.
231
lighted — I shall be charmed — to converse with you,
but I owe it to my own character not to pursue this
topic for another moment."
" Think better of it, sir. when I am gone," returned
the locksmith; " think better of it, sir. Although you
have, thrice within as many weeks, turned your lawful
son, Mr. Edward, from your door, you may have time,
you may have years to make your peace with him, Sir
John: but that twelve o'clock will soon be here, and
soon be past forever."
" I thank you very much," returned the knight, kiss-
ing his delicate hand to the locksmith, " for your guile-
less advice; and I only wish, my good soul, although
your simplicity is quite captivating, that you had a little
more worldly wisdom. I never so much regretted the
arrival of my hair-dresser as I do at this moment. God
bless you ! Good-morning ! You'll not forget my mes-
sage to the ladies, Mr. Varden? Peak, show Mr. Yar-
den to the door."
Gabriel said no more, but gave the knight a parting
look, and left him. As he quitted the room, Sir John's
face changed ; and the smile gave place to a haggard
and anxious expression, like that of a weary actor jaded
by the performance of a difficult part. He rose from
his bed with a heavy sigh, and wrapped himself in his
morning-gown.
" So, she kept her word," he said, " and was constant
to her threat! I would I had never seen that dark face
of hers, — I might have read these consequences in it,
from the first. This affair would make a noise abroad,
if it rested on better evidence ; but, as it is, and by not
joining the scattered links of the chain, I can afford to
slight it. — Extremely distressing to be the parent of
232
BARNABY BUDGE.
such an uncouth creature ! Still, I gave him very good
advice. I told him he would certainly be hanged. I
could have done no more if I had known of our rela-
tionship; and there are a great many fathers who have
never done as much for their natural children. — The
hair-dresser may come in, Peak ! "
The hair-dresser came in ; and saw in Sir John Ches-
ter (whose accommodating conscience was soon quieted
by the numerous precedents that occurred to him in sup-
port of his last observation), the same imperturbable,
fascinating, elegant gentleman he had seen yesterday,
and many yesterdays before.
BARNABY RUDGE
238
CHAPTER LXXVI.
As the locksmith walked slowly away from Sir John
Chester's chambers, he lingered under the trees which
shaded the path, almost hoping that he might be sum-
moned to return. He had turned back thrice, and still
loitered at the corner, when the clock struck twelve.
It was a solemn sound, and not merely for its refer-
ence to to-morrow; for he knew that in that chime
the murderer's knell was rung. He had seen him pass
along the crowded street, amidst the execrations of the
throng; had marked his quivering lip, and trembling
limbs ; the ashy hue upon his face, his clammy brow,
the wild distraction of his eye, — the fear of death that
swallowed up all other thoughts, and gnawed without ces-
sation at his heart and brain. He had marked the wan-
dering look, seeking for hope, and finding, turn where
it would, despair. He had seen the remorseful, piti-
ful, desolate creature, riding, with his coffin by his side,
to the gibbet. He knew that, to the last, he had been
an unyielding, obdurate man ; that in the savage terror
of his condition he had hardened, rather than relented,
to his wife and child; and that the last words which
had passed his white lips were curses on them as his
enemies.
Mr. Haredale had determined to be there and see it
done. Nothing but the evidence of his own senses
could satisfy that gloomy thirst for retribution which had
234
BARNABY RUDGE.
been gathering upon him for so many years. The lock-
smith knew this, and when the chimes had ceased to
vibrate, hurried away to meet him.
" For these two men," he said, as he went, " I can do
no more. Heaven have mercy on them ! — Alas ! I say
I can do no more for them, but whom can I help ? Mary
Rudge will have a home, and a firm friend when she
most wants one; but Barnaby — poor Barnaby—will-
ing Barnaby — what aid can I render him ? There are
many, many men of sense, God forgive me," cried the
honest locksmith, stopping in a narrow court to pass
his hand across his eyes, " I could better afford to lose
than Barnaby. We have always been good friends,
but I never knew, till now, how much I loved the
lad."
There were not many in the great city who thought
of Barnaby that day, otherwise than as an actor in a
show which was to take place to-morrow. But, if the
whole population had had him in their minds, and had
wished his life to be spared, not one among them could
have done so with a purer zeal or greater singleness of
heart than the good locksmith.
Barnaby was to die. There was no hope. It is not
the least evil attendant upon the frequent exhibition of
this last dread punishment, of Death, that it hardens the
minds of those who deal it out, and makes them, though
they be amiable men in other respects, indifferent to, or
unconscious of, their great responsibility. The word had
gone forth that Barnaby was to die. It went forth, every
month, for lighter crimes. It was a thing so common,
that very few were startled by the awful sentence, or
cared to question its propriety. Just then, too, when the
law had been so flagrantly outraged, its dignity must be
BARNABY RUDGE.
23a
asserted. The symbol of its dignity, — stamped upon
every page of the criminal statute-book,— was the gal-
lows; and Bnrnaby was to die.
They had tried to save him. The locksmith had car-
ried petitions and memorials to the fountain-head, with
his own hands. But the well was not one of mercy, anil
Barnaby was to die.
From the first, his mother had never left him, save at
night; and with her beside him, he was as usual con-
tented. On this last day, he was more elated and more
proud than he had been yet; and when she dropped
the book she had been reading to him aloud, and fell
upon his neck, he stopped in his busy task of fold-
ing a piece of crape about his hat, and wondered at
her anguish. Grip uttered a feeble croak, half in en-
eouragement, it seemed, and half in remonstrance, but
he wanted heart to sustain it, arid lapsed abruptly into
silence.
With them, who stood upon the brink of the great
gulph which none can- see beyond, Time, so soon to lose
itself in vast Eternity, rolled on like a mighty river,
swoln and rapid as it nears the sea. It was morning
but now ; they had sat and talked together in a dream ;
and here was evening. The dreadful hour of separa-
tion, which even yesterday had seemed so distant, was
at hand.
They walked out into the court-yard, clinging to each
other, but not speaking. Barnaby knew that the jail
was a dull, sad, miserable place, and looked forward to
to-morrow, as to a passage from it to something bright
and beautiful. He had a vague impression too, that he
was expected to be brave — that he was a man of great
consequence, and that the prison people would be glad to
236
BARNABY RUDGE.
make him weep. He trod the ground more firmly as he
thought of this, and bade her take heart and cry no more,
and feel how steady his hand was. " They "call me silly,
mother. They shall see — to-morrow ! "
Dennis and Hugh were in the court-yard. Hugh
came forth from his cell as they did, stretching himself
as though he had been sleeping. Dennis sat upon a
bench in a corner, with his knees and chin huddled to-
gether, and rocked himself to and fro like a person in
severe pain.
The mother and son remained on one side of the court,
and these two men upon the other. Hugh strode up and
down, glancing fiercely every now and then at the bright
summer-sky, and looking round, when he had done so, at
the walls.
" No reprieve, no reprieve ! Nobody comes near us.
There's only the night left now ! " moaned Dennis faintly,
as he wrung his hands. " Do you think they'll reprieve
me in the night, brother ? I've known reprieves come
in the night, afore now. I've known 'em come as late
as five, six, and seven o'clock in the morning. Don't
you think there's a good chance yet, — don't you ? Say
you do. Say you do, young man," whined the miserable
creature, with an imploring gesture towards Bamaby,
" or I shall go mad !"
" Better be mad than sane, here," said Hugh. " Go
mad."
" But tell me what you think. Somebody tell me
what he thinks ! " cried the wretched object, — so mean,
and wretched, and despicable, that even Pity's self might
have turned away, at sight of such a being in the likeness
of a man — " isn't there a chance for me, — isn't there
a good chance for me ? Isn't it likely they may be doing
BARNABY RUDGE.
237
this to frighten me ? Don't you think it is ? Oh !" he
almost shrieked, as he wrung his hands, " won't anybody
give me comfort! "
" You ought to be the best, instead of the worst," said
Hugh, stopping before him. " Ha, ha, ha ! See the
hangman, when it comes home to him! "
" You don't know what it is," cried Dennis, actually
writhing as he spoke. " I do. That I should come to
be worked off! I! I! That 1 should come! "
"And why not?" said Hugh, as he thrust back his
matted hair to get a better view of his late associate.
" How often, before I knew your trade, did I hear you
talking of this as if it was a treat ? "
"I a'n't unconsistent," screamed the miserable crea-
ture; " I'd talk so again, if I was hangman. Some
other man has got my old opinions at this minute. That
makes it worse. Somebody's longing to work me off. I
know by myself that somebody must be !"
" He'll soon have his longing," said Hugh, resuming
his walk. "Think of that, and be quiet."
Although one of these men displayed, in his speech
and bearing, the most reckless hardihood; and the other,
in his every word and action, testified such an extreme
of abject cowardice that it was humiliating to see him;
it would be difficult to say which of them would most
have repelled and shocked an observer. Hugh's was
the dogged desperation of a savage at the stake; the
hangman was reduced to a condition little better, if
any, than that of a hound with the halter round his
neck. Yet, as Mr. Dennis knew and could have told
them, these were the two commonest states of mind
in pjrsons brought to their pass. Such was the whole-
tale growth of the s>ed sown by the law, that this
238
BARNABY RUDGE.
kind of harvest was usually looked for, as a matter of
course.
In one respect they all agreed. The wandering and
uncontrollable train of thought, suggesting sudden recol-
lections of things distant and long forgotten and remote
from each other — the vague restless craving for some-
thing undefined, which nothing could satisfy — the swift
flight of the minutes, fusing themselves into hours, as if
by enchantment—the rapid coming of the solemn night
— the shadow of death always upon them, and yet so
dim and faint, that objects the meanest and most trivial
started from the gloom beyond, and forced themselves
upon the view — the impossibility of holding the mind,
even if they had been so disposed, to penitence and
preparation, or of keeping it to any point while one
hideous fascination tempted it away — these things were
common to them all, and varied only in their outward
tokens.
" Fetch me the book I left within — upon your bed,"
she said to Barnaby, as the clock struck. " Kiss me
first!"
He looked in her face, and saw there that the time
was come. After a long embrace, he tore himself away,
and ran to bring it to her; bidding her not stir till he
came back. He soon returned, for a shriek recalled
him, — but she was gone.
He ran to the yard-gate, and looked through. They
were carrying her away. She had said her heart would
break. It was better so.
" Don't you think," whimpered Dennis, creeping up to
him, as he stood with his feet rooted to the ground, gaz-
ing at the blank walls — " don't you think there's still a
ehance ? It's a dreadful end; it's a terrible end for a
BARNABY RUDGE. 1 289
man like me. Don't you think there's a chance ? I don't
mean for you, I mean for me. Don't letlfo'm hear us"
(meaning Hugh); " he's so desperate." *
"Now then," said the officer, who had been lounging
in and-out with his hands in his pockets, and yawning as
if he were in the last extremity for some subject of iri»
terest: "it's time to turn in, boys."
" Not yet," cried Dennis, " not yet. Not for an hour
yet."
" I say, — your watch goes different from what it used
to," returned the man. " Once upon a time it was al-
ways too fast. It's got the other fault now."
" My friend," cried the wretched creature, falling on
his knees, " my dear friend — you always were my dear
friend — there's some mistake. Some letter has been
mislaid, or some messenger has been stopped upon the
way. He may have fallen dead. I saw a man once,
fall down dead in the street, myself, and he had papers
in his pocket. Send to inquire. Let somebody go to
inquire. They never will hang me. They never can.
— Yes, they will," he cried, starting to his feet with a
terrible scream. " They'll hang me by a trick, and keep
the pardon back. It's a plot against me. I shall lose
my life!" And uttering another yell, he fell in a fit
upon the ground.
" See the hangman when it comes home to him!"
cried Hugh again, as they bore him away — " Ha, ha,
la! Courage, bold Barnaby, what care we? Your
hand 1 They do well to put us out of the world, for if
we got loose a second time, we wouldn't let them off so
easy, eh ? Another shake! A man can die but once.
If you wake in the night, sing that out lustily, and fall
asleep again. Ha, ha, ha ! "
240
BARNABY RUDGK.
Barnaby glanced once more through the grate into
the empty yard ; and then watched Hugh as he strode
to the steps leading to his sleeping-cell. He heard him
shout, and burst into a roar of laughter, and saw him
flourish his hat. Then he turned away himself, like one
who walked in his sleep; and, without any sense of fear
or sorrow, lay down on his pallet, listening for the clock
to strike again.
BARNABY RUDGE.
241
CHAPTER LXXVII.
The time wore on. The noises in the streets became
less frequent by degrees, until silence was scarcely
broken save by the bells in church-towers, marking the
progress — softer and more Stealthy while the city slum-
bered — of that Great Watcher with the hoary head,
who never sleeps or rests. In the brief interval of dark-
ness and repose which feverish towns enjoy, all busy
sounds were hushed; and those who awoke from dreams
lay listening in their beds, and longed for dawn, and
wished the dead1 of the night were past.
Into the street outside the jail's main wall, workmen
came straggling at this solemn hour, in groups of two 01
three, and meeting in the centre cast their tools upon the
ground and spoke in whispers. Others soon issued from
the jail itself, bearing on their shoulders planks and
beams: these materials being all brought forth, the resi
bestirred themselves, and the dull sound of hammers
began to echo through the stillness.
Here and there among this knot of laborers, one, with
a lantern or a smoky link, stood by to light his fellc ws
at their work ; and by its doubtful aid, some might bo
dimly seen taking up the pavement of the road, while
others held great upright posts, or fixed them in the
holes thus made for their reception. Some dragged
slowly on towards the rest, an empty cart, which they
brought rumbling from the prison-yard; while others
VOL. Ill 16
242
BARNABY KUDGE.
erected strong barriers across the street. All were busily
engaged. Their dusky figures moving to and fro, at
that unusual hour, so active and so silent, might have
been taken for those of shadowy creatures toiling at mid-
night on some ghostly unsubstantial work, which, like
themselves, would vanish with the first gleam of day,
and leave but morning mist and vapor.
While it was yet dark, a few lookers-on collected, who
had plainly come there for the purpose and intended to
remain : even those who had to pass the spot on their
way to some other place, lingered, and lingered yet, as
though the attraction of that were irresistible. Mean-
while the noise of saw and mallet went on briskly, min-
gled with the clattering of boards on the stone pavement
of the road, and sometimes with the workmen's voices as
they called to one another. Whenever the chimes of
the neighboring church were heard —and that was
everv quarter of an hour — a strange sensation, instan-
taneous and indescribable, but perfectly obvious, seemed
to pervade them all.
Gradually, a faint brightness appeared in the east, and
the air, which had been very warm all through the night,
felt cool and chilly. Though there was no daylight yet,
the darkness was diminished, and the stars looked pale.
The prison, which had been a mere black mass with
little shape or form, put on its usual aspect; and ever
and anon a solitary watchman could be seen upon its
roof, stopping to look down upon the preparations in the
street. This man, from forming, as it were, a part of
the jail, and knowing, or being supposed to know, all
that was passing within, became an object of as much
interest, and was as eagerly looked for, and as awfully
pointed out, as if he had been a spirit.
BARNABY RUDGE.
243
By and by, the feeble light grew stronger, and the
houses with their sign-boards and inscriptions stood
plainly out, in the dull gray morning. Heavy stage-
wagons crawled from the inn-yard opposite; and trav-
ellers peeped out; and as they rolled sluggishly away,
cast many a backward look towards the jail. And now,
the sun's first beams came glancing into the street; and
the night's work, which, in its various stages and in the
varied fancies of the lookers-on had taken a hundred
shapes, wore its own proper form — a scaffold, and a
gibbet.
As the warmth of cheerful day began to shed itself
upon the scanty crowd, the murmur of tongues was heard,
shutters were thrown open, and blinds drawn up, and
those who had slept in rooms over against the prison,
where places to see the execution were let at high prices,
rose hastily from their beds. In some of the houses,
people were busy taking out the window sashes for the
better accommodation of spectators; in others, the spec-
tators were already seated, and beguiling the time with
cards, or drink, or jokes among themselves. Some had
purchased seats upon the house-tops, and were already
crawling to their stations from parapet and garret-win-
dow. Some were yet bargaining for good places, and
stood in them in a state of indecision : gazing at the
slowly-swelling crowd, and at the workmen as they
rested listlessly against the scaffold — affecting to listen
with indifference to the proprietor's eulogy of the com-
inanding view his house afforded, and the surpassing
cheapness of his terms.
A fairer morning never shone. From the roofs and
upper stories of these buildings, the spires of city
churches and the great cathedral dome were visible, ris-
244
BARNABY RUDGE.
ing up beyond the prison, into the blue sky, and clad
in the color of light summer clouds, and showing in the
clear atmosphere their every scrap of tracery and fret-
work, and every niche and loop-hole. All was brightness
and promise, excepting in the street below, into which
(for it yet lay in shadow) the eye looked down as into
a dark trench, where, in the midst of so much life, and
hope, and renewal of existence, stood the terrible in-
strument of death. It seemed as if the very sun for-
bore tp look upon it.
But it was better, grim and sombre in the shade, than
when, the day being more advanced, it stood confessed
in the full glare and glory of the sun, with its black
paint blistering, and its nooses dangling in the light like
loathsome garlands. It was better in the solitude and
gloom of midnight with a few forms clustering about it,
than in the freshness and the stir of morning: the centre
of an eager crowd. It was better haunting the street
like a spectre, when men were in their beds, and influen-
cing perchance the city's dreams, than braving the broad
day, and thrusting its obscene presence upon their wak-
ing senses.
Five o'clock had struck — six — seven — and eight.
Along the two main streets at either end of the cross-
way, a living stream had now set in, rolling towards the
marts of gain and business. Carts, coaches, wagons,
trucks, and barrows, forced a passage through the out-
skirts of the throng, and clattered onward in the same
direction. Some of these which were public convey-
ances and had come from a short distance in the country,
stopped; and the driver pointed to the gibbet with his
whip, though lie might have spared himself the pains,
for the heads of all the passengers were turned that way
BARNABY RUDGE.
245
without his help, and the coach-windows were stuck full
of staring eyes. In some of the carts and wagons,
women might be seen, glancing fearfully at the same
unsightly thing; and even little children were held up
above the people's heads to see what kind of toy a
gallows was, and learn how men were hanged.
Two rioters were to die before the prison, who had
been concerned in the attack upon it.; and one directly
afterwards in Bloomsbury Square. At nine o'clock a
strong body of military marched into the street, and
formed and lined a narrow passage into Holborn, which
had been indifferently kept all night by constables.
Through this, another cart was brought (the one already
mentioned had been employed in the construction of
the scaffold), and wheeled up to the prison-gate. These
preparations made, the soldiers stood at ease; the
officers lounged to and fro, in the alley they had made,
or talked together at the scaffold's foot; and the con-
course, which had been rapidly augmenting for some
hours, and still received additions every minute, waited
with an impatience which increased with every chime
of St. Sepulchre's clock, for twelve at noon.
Up to this time they had been very quiet, compara-
tively silent, save when the arrival of some new party
at a window, hitherto unoccupied, gave them something
new to look at or to talk of. But, as the hour ap-
preached, a buzz and hum arose, which, deepening every
moment, soon swelled into a roar, and seemed to fill the
air. No words or even voices could be distinguished
in this clamor, nor did they speak much to each other;
though such as were better informed upon the topic than
the rest, would tell their neighbors, perhaps, that they
might know the hangman when he came out, by his
246
BARNABY RUDGE.
being the shorter one: .and that the man who was to
suffer with him was named Hugh: and that it was
Barnaby Rudge who would be hanged in Bloomsbury
Square.
The hum grew, as the time drew near, so loud, that
those who were at the windows could not hear the
church-clock strike, though it was close at hand. Nor
had they any need to hear it, either, for they could see
it in the people's faces. So surely as another quarter
chimed, there was a movement in the crowds—as if
something had passed over it—as if the light upon
them had been changed — in which the fact was read-
able as on a brazen dial, figured by a giant's hand.
Three quarters past eleven ! The murmur now was
deafening, yet every man seemed mute. Look where
you would among the crowd, you saw strained eyes and
lips compressed ; it would have been difficult for the
most vigilant observer to point this way or that, and
say that yonder man had cried out. It were as easy
to detect the motion of lips in a sea-shell.
Three quarters past eleven! Many spectators who
had retired from the windows, came back refreshed, as
though their watch had just begun. Those who had
fallen asleep, roused themselves; and every perscn in
the crowd made one last effort to better his position —
which caused a press against the sturdy barriers that
made them bend and yield like twigs. The officers,
who until now had kept together, fell into their several
positions, and gave the words of command. Swords
were drawn, muskets shouldered, and the bright steel
winding its way among the crowd, gleamed and glit-
tered in the sun like a river. Along this shining path,
two men came hurrying on, leading a horse, which was
BARNABY RUDGE.
247
speedily harne-sed to the cart at the prison-door. Then,
a profound silence replaced the tumult that had so long
been gathering, and a breathless pause ensued. Every
window was now choked up with heads; the house-tops
teemed with people — clinging to chimneys, peering-over
gable-ends, and holding on where the sudden loosening
of any brick or stone would dash them down into the
street. The church tower, the church roof, the church-
yard, the prison leads, the very water-spouts and lamp-
posts — every inch of room — swarmed with human
life.
At the first stroke of twelve the prison bell began
to toll. Then the roar — mingled now with cries of
"Hats 'off!" and "Poor fellows!" and, from some
specks in the great concourse, with a shriek or groan
— burst forth again. It was terrible to see — if any
one in that distraction of excitement could have seen
— the world of eager eyes, all strained upon the scaf-
fold and the beam.
The hollow murmuring was heard within the jail as
plainly as without. The three were' brought forth into
the yard, together, as it resounded through the air.
They knew its import well.
" D'ye hear ? " cried Hugh, undaunted by the sound.
" They expect us! I heard them gathering when I
woke in the night, and turned over on t'other side
and fell asleep again. We shall see how they welcome
the hangman, now that it comes home to him. Ha,
ha, ha ! "
The Ordinary coming up at this moment, reproved
him for his indecent mirth, and advised him to alter
his demeanor.
" And why, master ? " said Hugh. " Can I do bet-
248
BARNABY RUDGE.
ter than bear it easily ? Tou bear it easily enough
Oh! never tell me," he cried, as the other would have
spoken, " for all your sad look and your solemn air, you
think little enough of it! They say you're the best
maker of lobster salads in London. Ha, ha! I've
heard that, you see, before now. Is it a good one,
this morning — is your hand in ? How does the break-
fast look ? I hope there's enough, and to spare, for all
this hungry company that'll sit down to it, when the
sight's over."
" I fear," observed the clergyman, shaking his head,
" that you are incorrigible."
" You're right. I am," rejoined Hugh sternly. " Be
no hypocrite, master! You make a merry-making of
this, every month ; let me be merry, too. If you want
a frightened fellow, there's one that'll suit you. Try
your hand upon him."
He pointed, as he spoke, to Dennis, who, with his legs
trailing on the ground, was held between two men ; and
who trembled so, that all his joints and limbs seemed
racked by spasms.' Turning from this wretched spec-
tacle, he called to Barnaby, who stood apart.
" What cheer, Barnaby ? Don't be downcast, lad.
Leave that to him."
" Bless you," cried Barnaby, stepping lightly towards
him, " I'm not frightened, Hugh. I'm quite happy.
I wouldn't desire to live now, if they'd let me. Look
at me ! Am I afraid to die ? Will they see me
tremble ? "
Hugh gazed for a moment at his face, on which
there was a strange, unearthly smile ; and at his eye,
which sparkled brightly ; and interposing between him
»nd the Ordinary, gruffly whispered to the latter: —
BARNABY RUDGE.
249
" I wouldn't say much to him, master, if I was you.
He may spoil your appetite for breakfast, though you
are used to it."
He was the only one of the three who had washed or
trimmed himself that morning. Neither of the others
had done so, since their doom was pronounced. He still
wore the broken peacock's feathers in his hat; and all
his usual scraps of finery were carefully disposed about
his person. His kindling eye, his firm step, his proud
and resolute bearing, might have graced some lofty act
of heroism; some voluntary sacrifice, born of a noble
cause and pure enthusiasm; rather than that felon's
death.
But all these things increased his guilt. They were
mere assumptions. The law had declared it so, and so
it must be. The good minister had been greatly shocked,
not a quarter of an hour before, at his parting with Grip.
For one in his condition, to fondle a bird!
The yard was filled with people; bluff civic function-
aries, officers of justice, soldiers, the curious in such mat-
ters, and guests who had been bidden as to a wedding.
Hugh looked about him, nodded gloomily to some per-
son in authority, who indicated with his hand in what
. direction he was to proceed; and clapping Barnaby on
the shoulder, passed out with the gait of a lion.
They entered a large room, so near to the scaffold that
the voices of those who stood about it, could be plainly
heard: some beseeching the javelin-men to take them
out of the crowd: others crying to those behind, to
stand back, for they were pressed to death and suff'o-
eating for want of air.
In the middle of this chamber, two smiths with ham-
mers, stood beside an anvil. Hugh walked straight up
250
BARNABY RUDGF..
to them, and set his foot upon it with a sound as though
it had been struck by a heavy weapon. Then, with
folded arms, he stood to have his irons knocked off:
scowling haughtily round, as those who were present
eyed him narrowly and whispered ""to each other.
It took so much time to drag Dennis in, that this cere-
mony was over with Hugh, and nearly over with Bar-
naby, before he appeared. He no sooner came into the
place he knew so well, however, and among faces with
which he was so familiar, than he recovered strength and
sense enough to clasp his hands and make a last appeal.
" Gentlemen, good gentlemen," cried the abject crea-
ture, grovelling down upon his knees, and actually pros-
trating himself upon the stone floor: " Governor, dear
governor—honorable sheriffs—worthy gentlemen — have
mercy upon a wretched man that has served His Maj-
esty, and the Law, and Parliament, for so many years,
and don't—don't let me die — because of a mistake."
" Dennis," said the governor of the jail, " you know
what the course is, and that the order came with the rest.
You know that we could do nothing, even if we would."
" All I ask, sir, — all I want and beg, is time, to make
it sure," cried the trembling wretch, looking wildly round
for sympathy. " The King and Government can't know
it's me; I'm sure they can't know it's me; or they never
would bring me to this dreadful slaughter-house. They
know my name, but they don't know it's the same man.
Stop my execution — for charity's sake stop my execu-
tion, gentlemen — till they can be told that I've been
hangman here, nigh thirty year. Will no cne go and
tell thorn ? " ho implored, clinching his hands and glaring
round, and round, and round again—"will no charitable
person go and tell them ! "
BARNABY RUDGE.
251
" Mr. Akerman," said a gentleman who stood by, after
a moment's pause, " since it may possibly produce in this
unhappy man a better frame of mind, even at this last
minute, let me assure him that he was well known to have
been the hangman, when his sentence was considered."
—" But perhaps they think on that account that the
punishment's not so great," cried the criminal, shuffling
• towards this speaker on his knees, and holding up his
folded hands ; " whereas it's worse, it's worse a hundred
times, to me than any man. Let them know that, sir.
Let them know that. They've made it worse to me by
giving me so much to do. Stop my execution till they
know that!"
The governor beckoned with his hand, and the two
men, who had supported him before, approached. He
uttered a piercing cry : —
"Wait! Wait. Only a moment — only one moment
more ! Give me a last chance of reprieve. One of us
three is to go to Bloomsbury Square. Let me be the
one. It may come in that time; it's sure to come. In
the Lord's name let me be sent to Bloomsbury Square.
Don't hang me here. It's murder!"
They took him to the anvil: but even then he could
be heard above the clinking of the smith's hammers, and
the hoarse raging of the crow^, crying that he knew of
Hugh's birth — that his father was living, and was a
gentleman of influence and rank — that he had family
secrets in his possession —that he could tell nothing un-
less they gave him time, but must die with them on his
mind ; and he continued to rave in this sort until his
voice failed him, and he sank down a mere heap of
elothcs between the two attendants.
It was at this moment that the clock struck the first
252
BABNABY BUDGE.
stroke of twelve, and the bell began to toll. The various
officers, with the two sheriffs at their head, moved towards
the door. All was ready when the last chime came upon
the ear.
They told Hugh this, and asked if he had anything to
say.
" To say !" he .cried. " Not I. I'm ready. — Yes,"
he added, as his eye fell upon Barnaby, " I have a word
to say, too. Come hither, lad."
There was, for the moment, something kind, and even
tender, struggling in his fierce aspect, as he wrung his
poor companion by the hand. " I'll say this," he cried,
looking firmly round, " that if I had ten lives to lose, and
the loss of each would give me ten times the agony of
the hardest death, I'd lay them all down — ay I would,
though you gentlemen may not believe it — to save this
one. This one," he added, wringing his hand again,
" that will be lost through me."
" Not through you," said the idiot, mildly. " Don't
say that. You were not to blame. You have been
always very good to me. — Hugh, we shall know what
makes the stars shine, now! "
" I took him from her in a reckless mood, and didn't
think what harm would come of it," said Hugh, laying
his hand upon his head, and speaking in a lower voice.
" I ask her pardon, and his. — Look here," he added
roughly, in his former tone. " You see this lad ? "
They murmured " Yes," and seemed to wonder why
he asked.
" That gentleman yonder "— pointing to the clergy-
man — " has often in the last few days spoken to me of
faith, and strong belief.. You see what I am — more
brute than man, — as I have been often told — but I
BARNABY RUDGE.
253
had faith enough to believe, and did believe as strongly
as any of you gentlemen can believe anything, that this
one life would be spared. See what he is — Look at
him !"
Barnaby had moved towards the door, and stood beck-
oning him to follow.
" If this was not faith, and strong belief!" cried Hugh,
raising his right arm aloft, and looking upward like n
savage prophet whom the near approach of Death had
filled with inspiration, " where are they! What else
should teach me — me, born as I was born, and reared
as I have been reared — to hope for any mercy in this
hardened, cruel, unrelenting place ! Upon these human
shambles, I, who never raised his hand in prayer till
now, call down the wrath of God ! On that black tree,
of which I am the ripened fruit, I do invoke the curse
of all its victims, past, and present, and to come. On
the head of that man, who in his conscience, owns me
for his son, I leave the wish that he may never sicken
on his bed of down, but die a violent death as I do now,
and have the night-wind for his only mourner. To this
I say, Amen, amen ! "
His arm fell downward by his side; he turned; and
moved towards them with a steady step, the man he had
been before.
" There is nothing more ? " said the Governor.
Hugh motioned Barnaby not to come near him (though
without looking in the direction where he stood) and an-
swered, " There is nothing more."
" Move forward ! "
—" Unless," said Hugh, glancing hurriedly back,
—" unless any person here has a fancy for a dog;
and not then, unless he means to use him well. There's
254
BARNABY BUDGE.
one, belongs to me, at the house I came from, and it
wouldn't be easy to find a better.- He'll whine at first,
but he'll soon get over that. — You wonder that I think
about a dog just now," he added, with a kind of laugh,
" If any man deserved it of me half as well, I'd think
of him."
He spoke no more, but moved onward in his place,
with a careless air, though listening at the same time to
the Service for the Dead, with something between sullen
attention and quickened curiosity. As soon as he had
passed the door, his miserable associate was carried out;
and the crowd beheld the rest.
Barnaby would have mounted the steps at the same
time — indeed he would have gone before them, but in
both attempts he was restrained, as he was to undergo
the sentence elsewhere. In a few minutes the sheriffs
reappeared, the same procession was again formed, and
they passed through various rooms and passages to an-
other door — that at which the cart was waiting. He
held down his head to avoid seeing what he knew his
eyes must otherwise encounter, and took his seat sorrow-
fully, and yet with something of a childish pride and
pleasure, — in the vehicle. The officers fell into their
places at the sides, in front, and in the rear ; the sheriffs'
carriages rolled on ; a guard of soldiers surrounded the
whole; and they moved slowly forward through the
throng and pressure towards Lord Mansfield's ruined
house.
It was a sad sight — all the show, and strength, and
glitter, assembled round one helpless creature — and
sadder yet to note, as he rode along, how his wandering
thoughts found strange encouragement in the crowded
windows and the concourse in the streets; and how,
BARNABY' RtJDGR.
256
even then, he felt the influence of the bright sky, and
looked up, smiling, into its deep unfathomable blue.
But there had been many such sights since the riots
were over — some so moving in their nature, and so
repulsive too, that they were far more calculated to
awaken pity for the sufferers, than respect for that law
whose strong arm seemed in more than one case to be
as wantonly stretched forth now that all was safe, as it^
had been basely paralyzed in time of danger.
Two cripples — both mere boys — one with a leg of
wood, one who dragged his twisted limbs along by the
help of a crutch, were hanged in this same Bloomsbury
Square. As the cart was about to glide from under
them, it was observed that they stood with their faces
from, not to, the house they had assisted to despoil; and
their misery was protracted that this omission might be
remedied. Another boy was hanged in Bow Street;
other young lads to various quarters of the town. Four
wretched women, too, were put to death. In a word,
those who suffered as rioters were, for the most part, the
weakest, meanest, and most miserable among them. It
was an exquisite satire upon the false religious cry
which had led to so much misery, that some of these
people owned themselves to be catholics, and begged to
be attended by their own priests.
One young man was hanged in Bishopsgate Street,
whose aged gray-headed father waited for him at the
gallows, kissed him at its foot when he arrived, and sat
there on the ground, until they'took him down. They
would have given him the body of his child ; but he
had no hearse, no coffin, nothing to remove it in, being
too poor — and walked meekly away beside the cart
that took it back to prison, trying as he went to touch
its lifeless hand.
256
barnaby rudge.
But, the crowd had forgotten these matters, or cared
little about them if they lived in their memory; and
while one great multitude fought and hustled to get
near the gibbet before Newgate, for a parting look,
another followed in the train of poor lost Barnaby, to
swell the throng that waited for him on the spot
BARN A BY RUDGE.
257
CHAPTER LXXVIII
On this same day, and about this very hour, Mr
Willet, the elder, sat smoking his pipe in a chamber of
the Black Lion. Although it was hot summer weather,
Mr. Willet sat close to the fire. He was in a state of
profound cogitation, with his own thoughts, and it was
his custom at such times to stew himself slowly, under
the impression that that process of cookery was favora-
ble to the melting out of his ideas, which, when he
began to simmer, sometimes oozed forth so copiously as
to astonish even himself.
Mr. Willet had been several thousand times comforted
by his friends and acquaintance, with the assurance that
for the loss he had sustained in the damage done to the
Maypole, he could " come upon the county." But as
this phrase happened to bear an unfortunate'resemblance
to the popular expression of " coming on the parish," it
suggested to Mr. Willet's mind no more consolatory vis-
ions than pauperism on an extensive scale, and ruin in
a capacious aspect. Consequently, he had never failed
to receive the intelligence with a rueful shake of the
head, or a dreary stare, and had been always observed
to appear much more melancholy after a visit of condo-
'ence than at any other time in the whole four-and-twenty
hours.
It chanced, however, that sitting over the fire on this
particular occasion — perhaps because he was, as it were,
vol. m. 17
258
BARN A BY RUDGE.
done to a turn ; perhaps because he was in an unusually
bright state of mind; perhaps because he had considered
the subject so long ; perhaps because of all these favoring
circumstances taken together — it chanced that, sitting
over the fire on this particular occasion, Mr. Willet did,
afar off and in the remotest depths of his intellect, per-
ceive a kind of lurking hint or faint suggestion, that out
of the public purse there might issue funds for the res-
toration of the Maypole to its former high place among
the taverns of the earth. And this dim ray of light did
so diffuse itself within him, and did so kindle up and
shine, that at last he had it as plainly and visibly be-
fore him as the blaze by which he sat: and fully per-
suaded that he was the first to make the discovery,
and that he had started, hunted down, fallen upon, and
knocked on the head, a perfectly original idea which
had never presented itself to any other man, alive or
dead, he laid down his pipe, rubbed his hands, and
chuckled audibly.
" Why, father!" cried Joe, entering at the moment,
" you're in spirits to-day ! "
" It's nothing partickler," said Mr. Willet, chuckling
again. " It's nothing at all partickler, Joseph. Tell me
something about the Salwanners." Having preferred
this request, Mr. Willet chuckled a third time, and after
these unusual demonstrations of levity, he put his pipe
in his mouth again.
" What shall I tell you, father ? " asked Joe, laying
his hand upon his sire's shoulder, and looking down
into his face. " That I have come back, poorer than
a church mouse. You know that. That I have come
back, maimed and crippled ? You know that."
" It was took off," muttered Mr. Willet, with his eyes
BARNABY RUDGE.
259
upon the fire, " at the defence of the Salwanners, in
America, where the war is."
" Quite right," returned Joe, smiling, and leaning with
his remaining elbow 011 the back of his father's chair ;
" the very subject I came to speak to you about. A
man with one arm, father, is not of much use in the
busy world."
This was one of those vast propositions which Mr.
Willet had never considered for an instant, and required
time to " tackle." Wherefore he made no answer.
" At all events," said Joe, " he can't pick and choose
his means of earning a livelihood, as another man may.
He can't say ' I will turn my hand to this,' or ' I won't
turn my hand to that,' but must take what he can do,
and be thankful it's no worse. — What did you say ?"
Mr. Willet had been softly repeating to himself, in a
musing tone, the words "defence of the Salwanners:"
but he seemed embarrassed at having been overheard,
and answered " Nothing."
" Now look here, father. — Mr. Edward has come to
England from the West Indies. When he was lost
sight of (I ran away on the same day, father), he made
a voyage to one of the islands, where a school-friend of
his had settled ; and, finding him, wasn't too proud to
be employed on his estate, anj) — and in short, got on
well, and is prospering, and has come over here on busi-
ness of his own, and is going back again speedily. Our
returning nearly at the same time, and meeting in the
course of the late troubles, has been a good thing every
way ; for it has not only enabled us to do old friends
some service, but has opened a path in life for me which
I may tread without being a burden upon you. To bo
plain, father, he can employ me; I have satisfied my-
260
BARNABY RUDGE.
«
self that I can be of real use to him; and I am going
to carry my one arm away with him, and to make the
most of it."
In the mind's eye of Mr. Willet, the West Indies, and
indeed all foreign countries, were inhabited by savage
nations, who were perpetually burying pipes of peace,
flourishing tomahawks, and puncturing strange patterns
in their bodies. He no sooner heard this announcement,
therefore, than he leaned back in his chair, took his pipe
from his lips, and stared at his son with as much dismay
as if he already beheld him tied to a stake, and tortured
for the entertainment of a lively population. In what
form of expression his feelings would have found a vent,
it is impossible to say. Nor is it necessary : for, before
a syllable occurred to him, Dolly Varden came running
into the room, in tears, threw herself on Joe's breast
without a word of explanation, and clasped her white
arms round his neck.
" Dolly ! " cried Joe. " Dolly ! "
" Ay, call me that; call me that always," exclaimed
the locksmith's little daughter; " never speak coldly to
me, never be distant, never again reprove me for the
follies I have long repented, or I shall die, Joe."
" I reprove you ! " said Joe.
" Yes — for every kind,and honest word you uttered,
went to my heart. For you, who have borne so much
from me — for you, who owe your sufferings and pain
to my caprice — for you to be so kind — so noble to me,
Joe " —
He could say nothing to her. Not a syllable. There
was an odd sort of eloquence in his one arm, which had
crept round her waist: but his lips were mute.
" If you had reminded me by a word — only by one
BABNABY RUDGE.
261
short word," sobbed Dolly, clinging yet closer to him,
" how little I deserved that you should treat me wilh so
much forbearance; if you had exulted only for one mo-
ment in your triumph, I could have borne it better."
" Triumph ! " repeated Joe, with a smile which seemed
to say, "lama pretty figure for that."
" Yes, triumph," she cried, with her whole heart and
soul in her earnest voice, and gushing tears; " for it is
one. I am glad to think and know it is. I wouldn't be
less humbled, dear — I wouldn't be without the recollec-
tion of that last time we spoke together in this place —
no, not if I could recall the past, and make our parting
yesterday."
Did ever lover look as Joe looked now !
" Dear Joe," said Dolly, " I always loved you — in
my own heart I always did, although I was so vain and
giddy. I hoped you would come back that night. I
made quite sure you would. I prayed for it on my
knees. Through all these long, long years, I have never
once forgotten you, or left off hoping that this happy
time might come."
The eloquence of Joe's arm surpassed the most impas-
sioned language; and so did that of his lips — yet he
said nothing, either.
" And now, at last," cried Dolly, trembling with the
fervor of her speech, " if you were sick, and shattered
in your every limb; if you were ailing, weak, and sor-
rowful; if, instead of being what you are, you were in
everybody's eyes but mine the wreck and ruin of a man ;
I would be your wife, dear love, with greater pride and
joy, than if you were the stateliest lord in England ! "
" What hlave I done," cried Joe, " what have I done
to meet with this reward ? "
262
BAKNABY KUDGE.
" You ha\ e taught me," said Dolly, raising her pretty
face to his, " to know myself, and your worth; to be
something better than I was; to be more deserving of
your true and manly nature. In years to come, dear
Joe, you shall find that you have done so ; for I will be,
not only now, when we are young and full of hope, but
when we have grown old and weary, your patient, gentle,
never-tiring wife. I will never know a wish or care be-
yond our home and you, and I will always study how to
please you with my best affection and my most devoted
love. I will: indeed I will! "
Joe could only repeat his former eloquence — but it
was very much to the purpose.
"They know of this, at home," said Dolly. "For
your sake, I would leave even them; but they know it,
aud are glad of it, and are as proud of you as I am, and
as full of gratitude.— You'll not come and see me as a
poor friend who knew me when I was a girl, will you,
dear Joe ?"
Well, well! It don't matter what Joe said in answer,
but he said a great deal; and Dolly said a great deal
too: and he folded Dolly in his one arm pretty tight,
considering that it was but one ; and Dolly made no re-
sistance : and if ever two people were happy in this
world — which is not an utterly miserable one, with all
its faults — we may, with some appearance of certainty,
conclude that they were.
To say that during these proceedings Mr. Willet the
elder underwent the greatest emotions of astonishment
of which our common nature is susceptible — to say that
he was in a perfect paralysis of surprise, and that he
wandered into the most stupendous and theretofore unat-
tainable heights of complicated amazement — would be
BARNABY RUDGE.
263
to shadow forth his state of mind in the feeblest and
lamest terms. If a roc, an eagle, a griffin, a flying ele-
phant, a winged sea-horse, had suddenly appeared, and,
taking him on its back, carried him bodily into the heart
of the " Salwanners," it would have been to him as an
every-day occurrence, in comparison with what he now
beheld. To be sitting quietly by, seeing and hearing
these things ; to be completely overlooked, unnoticed,
and disregarded, while his son and a young lady were
talking to each other in the most impassioned manner,
kissing each other, and making themselves in all respects
perfectly at home; was a position so tremendous, so inex-
plicable, so utterly beyond the widest range of his capac-
ity of comprehension, that he fell into a lethargy of won-
der, and could no more rouse himself than an enchanted
sleeper in the first year of his fairy lease, a century long.
" Father," said Joe, presenting Dolly. " You know
who this is?"
Mr. Willet looked first at her, then at his son, then
back again at Dolly, and then made an ineffectual effort
to extract a whiff from his pipe, which had gone out long
ago.
" Say a word, father, if it's only ' how d'ye do,'" urged
Joe.
" Certainly, Joseph," answered Mr. Willet. " Oh yes !
Why not ? "
" To be sure," said Joe. " Why not ? "
'* Ah ! " replied his father. " Why not ? " and with
this remark, which he uttered in a low voice as though
he were discussing some grave question with himself, he
used the little finger — if any of his fingers can be said
to have come under that denomination — of his right
hand as a tobacco-stopper, and was silent again.
264
BARNABY KUiXlE.
And so he sat for half an hour at least, although Dolly,
in the most endearing of manners, hoped a dozen times,
that he was not angry with her. So he sat for half an
hour, quite motionless, and looking all the while like
nothing so much as a great Dutch Pin or Skittle. At
the expiration of that period, he suddenly, and without
the least notice, burst (to the great consternation of the
young people) into a very loud and very short laugh;
and repeating " Certainly, Joseph. Oh yes 1 Why
not?" went out for a walk.
BABNABY BUDGE.
265
CHAPTER LXXIX.
Old John did not walk near the Golden Key, for be-
I ween the Golden Key and the Black Lion there lay a
wilderness of streets — as everybody knows who is ac-
quainted with the relative bearings of Clerkenwell and
Whitechapel — and he was by no means famous for
pedestrian exercises. But the Golden Key lies in our
way, though it was out of his; so to the Golden Key
this chapter goes.
The Golden Key itself, fair emblem of the locksmith's
trade, had been pulled down by the rioters, and roughly
trampled under foot. But, now, it was hoisted up again
in all the glory of a new coat of paint, and showed more
bravely even than in days of yore. Indeed the whole
house-front was spruce and trim, and so freshened up
throughout, that if there yet remained at large any of
the rioters who had been concerned in the attack upon
it, the sight of the old, goodly, prosperous dwelling, so
revived, must have been to them as gall and worm-
wood.
The shutters of the shop were closed, however, and
the window-blinds above were all pulled down, and in
place of its usual cheerful appearance, the house had a
look of sadness and an air of mourning ; which the neigh-
bors, who in old days had often seen poor Barnaby go in
and out, were at no loss to understand. The door stood
partly open ; but the locksmith's hammer was unheard ;
266
BARNABY RUDGE.
the cat sat moping on the ashy forge ; all was deserted,
dark, and silent.
On the threshold of this door, Mr. Haredale and
Edward Chester met. The younger man gave place;
and both passing in with a familiar air, which seemed to
denote that they were tarrying there or were well-ac-
customed to go to and fro unquestioned, shut it behind
him.
Entering the old back-parlor, and ascending the flight
of stairs, abrupt and steep, and quaintly fashioned as of
old, they turned into the best room; the pride of Mrs.
Varden's heart, and erst the scene of Miggs's household
labors.
" Varden brought the mother here last evening, he
told me?" said Mr. Haredale.
" She is above-stairs now — in the room over here,"
Edward rejoined. " Her grief, they say, is past all tell-
ing. I needn't add — for that you know beforehand, sir
— that the care, humanity, and sympathy of these good
people have no bounds."
" I am sure of that. Heaven repay them for it, and
for much more ! Varden is out ? "
" He returned with your messenger, who arrived al-
most at the moment of his coming home himself He
was out the whole night — but that of course you know.
He was with you the greater part of it?"
* He was. Without him, I should have lacked my
right hand. He is an older man than I; but nothing
can conquer him."
" The cheeriest, stoutest-hearted fellow in the world."
" He lias a right to he. He has a right to be. A
better creature never lived. He reaps what he has sown
.— no more."
BARNABY RUDGE.
267
"It is not all men," said Edward, after a moment's
hesitation, " who have the happiness to do that."
"More than you imagine," returned Mr. Haredale.
"We note the harvest more than the seed-time. You
do so in me."
In truth his pale and haggard face, and gloomy bear-
ing, had so far influenced the remark, that Edward was,
for the moment, at a loss to answer him.
"Tut, tut," said Mr. Haredale, "'twas not very diffi«
cult to read a thought so natural. But you are mistaken
nevertheless. I have had my share of sorrows — more
than the common lot, perhaps — but I have borne them
ill. I have broken where I should have bent; and have
mused and brooded, when my spirit should have mixed
with all God's great creation. The men who learn en-
durance, are they who call the whole world brother. I
have turned from the world, and I pay the penalty."
Edward would have interposed, but he went on with-
out giving him time.
" It is too late to evade it now. I sometimes think,
that if I had to live my life once more, I might amend
this fault — not so much, I discover when I search my
mind, for the love of what is right, as for my own sake.
But even when I make these better resolutions, I in-
stinctively recoil from the idea of suffering again what I
have undergone ; and in this circumstance I find the un-
welcome assurance that I should still be the same man,
though I could cancel the past, and begin anew, with its
experience to guide me."
" Nay, you make too sure of that," said Edward.
"You think so," Mr. Haredale answered, "and I am
glad you do. 1 know myself better, and therefore dis-
trust myself more. Let us leave this subject for another
268
BARNABY RUDGE.
— not so far removed from it as it might, at first sight,
seem to be. Sir, you still love my niece, and she is still
attached to you."
"I have that assurance from her own lips," said Ed-
ward, " and you know — I am sure you know — that I
would not exchange it for any blessing life could yield
me."
"You are frank, honorable, and disinterested," said
Mr. Haredale; " you have forced the conviction that
you are so, even on my once-jaundiced mind, and I be-
lieve you. Wait here till I come back."
He left the room as he spoke ; but soon returned with
his niece.
" On that first and only time," he said, looking from
the one to the other, " when we three stood together un-
der her father's roof, I told you to quit it, and charged
you never to return."
"It is the only circumstance arising out of our love,"
observed Edward, " that I have forgotten."
" You own a name," said Mr. Haredale, " I had deep
reason to remember. I was moved and goaded by recol-
lections of personal wrong and injury, I know, but, even
now I cannot charge myself with having, then, or ever,
lost sight of a heartfelt desire for her true happiness; 01
with having acted — however much I was mistaken —
with any other impulse than the one pure, single, earnest
wish to be to her, as far as in my inferior nature lay, the
father she had lost."
" Dear uncle," cried Emma. "I have known no parent
but you. I have loved the memory of others, but I have
loved you all my life. Never was father kinder to his
child than you have been to me, without the interval of
one harsh hour, since 1 can first remember."
BARNABY ltUDGE.
269
" You speak too fondly," he answered, " and yet I
cannot wish you were less partial; for I have a pleasure
in hearing those words, and shall have in calling them to
mind when *e are far asunder, which nothing else could
give me. Bear with me for a moment longer, Edward,
for she and I have been together many years; and al-
though I believe that in resigning her to you I put the
seal upon her future happiness, I find it needs an effort."
He pressed her tenderly to his bosom, and after a
minute's pause, resumed : —
" I have done you wrong, sir, and I ask your forgive-
ness — in no common phrase, or show of sorrow ; but
with earnestness and sincerity. In the same spirit, I
acknowledge to you both that the time has been when I
connived at treachery and falsehood — which if I did
not perpetrate myself, I still permitted — to rend you
two asunder."
" You judge yourself too harshly," said Edward.
" Let these things rest."
" They rise up in judgment against me when I look
back, and not now for the first time," he answered. " I
cannot part from you without your full forgiveness; for
busy life and 1 have little left in common now, and f.
have regrets enough to carry into solitude, without addi-
tion to the stock."
"You bear a blessing from us both," said Emma.
"Never mingle thoughts of me — of me who owe you
so much love and duty — with anything but undying
affection and gratitude for the past, and bright hopes for
the future."
"The future," returned her uncle, with a melancholy
imile, " is a bright word for you, and its image should be
wreathed with cheerful hopes. Mine is of another kind,
270
BARNABY BUDGE.
but it will be one of peace, and free, I trust, from care
or passion. When you quit England I shall leave it too.
There are cloisters abroad ; and now that the two great
objects of my life are set at rest, I know no better home.
You droop at that, forgetting I am growing old, and that
my course is nearly run. Well, we will speak of it
again —. not once or twice, but many times; and you
shall give me cheerful counsel, Emma."
" And you will take it ? " asked his niece.
" I'll listen to it," he answered, with a kiss, " and it
will have its weight, be certain. What have I left to
say ? You have, of late, been much together. It is
better and more fitting that the circumstances attendant
on the past, which wrought your separation, and sowed
between you suspicion and distrust, should not be en-
tered on by me."
"Much, much better," whispered Emma.
"I avow my share in them," said Mr. Haredale,
" though I held it, at the time, in detestation. Let no
man turn aside, ever so slightly, from the broad path of
honor, on the plausible pretence that he is justified by
the goodness of his end. All good ends can be worked
out by good means. Those that cannot, are bad; and
may be counted so at once, and left alone."
He looked from her to Edward, and said in a gentler
tone: —
" In goods and fortune you are now nearly equal. I
have been her faithful steward, and to that remnant of a
richer property which my brother left her, I desire to
add, in token of my love, a poor pittance, scarcely worth
the mention, for which I have no longer any need. I
am glad you go abroad. Let our ill-fated house remain
the ruin it is. When you return, after a few thriving
BAUNABY UUDGE.
271
years, you will command a better, and a more fortunate
one. We are friends ? "
Edward took his extended hand, and grasped it
heartily.
"You are neither slow nor cold in your response,"
said Mr. Haredale, doing the like by him, " and when I
look upon you now, and know you, I feel that I would
choose you for her husband. Her father had a generous
nature, and you would have pleased him well. I give
her to you in his name, and with his blessing. If the
world and I part in this act, we part on happier terms
than we have lived for many a day."
He placed her in his arms, and would have left the
room, but that he was stopped in his passage to the door
by a great noise at a distance, which made them start
and pause.
It was a loud shouting, mingled with boisterous accla-
mations, that rent the very air. It drew nearer and
nearer every moment, and approached so rapidly, that,
even while they listened, it burst into a deafening con-
fusion of sounds at the street corner.
"This must be stopped — quieted," said Mr. Hare-
dale, hastily. " We should have foreseen this, and pro-
vided against it. I will go out to them at once."
But, before he could reach the door, and before Ed-
ward could catch up his hat and follow him, they were
again arrested by a loud shriek from above-stairs: and
the locksmith's wife, bursting in, and fairly running into
Mr. Haredale's arms, cried out: —
" She knows it all, dear sir! — she knows it all! We
broke it out to her by degrees, and she is quite pre-
pared." Having made this communication, and further-
more thanked Heaven with great fervor and heartiness,
272
BARNABY RUDGE.
the good lady, according to the custom of matrons on all
occasions of excitement, fainted away directly.
They ran to the window, threw up the sash, and
looked into the crowded street. Among a dense mob
of persons, of whom not one was for an instant still, the
locksmith's ruddy face and burly form could be descried,
beating about as though he was struggling with a rough
sea. Now, he was carried back a score of yards, now
onward nearly to the door, now back again, now forced
against the opposite houses, now against those adjoining
his own : now carried up a flight of steps, and greeted
by the outstretched hands of half a hundred men, while
the whole tumultuous concourse stretched their throats,
and cheered with all their might. Though he was really
in a fair way to be torn to pieces in the general enthusi-
asm, the locksmith, nothing discomposed, echoed their
shouts till he was hoarse as they, and in a glow of joy
and right good-humor, waved his hat until the daylight
shone between its brim and crown.
But in all the bandyings from hand to hand, and striv-
ings to and fro, and sweepings here and there, which —
saving that he looked more jolly and more radiant after
every struggle — troubled his peace of mind no more
than if he had been a straw upon the water's surface, he
never once released his firm grasp of an arm, drawn
tight through his. He sometimes turned to clap this
friend upon the back, or whisper in his ear a word of
stanch encouragement, or cheer him with a smile ; but
his great care was to shield liirn from the pressure, and
force a passage for him to the Golden Key. Passive
and timid, scared, pale, and wondering, and gazing at the
throng as if he were newly risen from the dead, and felt
himself a ghost among the living, Barnaby — not Bar-
BARNABY RUDGE. 273
naby in the spirit, but in flesh and blood, with pulses,
sinews, nerves, and beating heart, and strong affections
— clung to his stout old friend, and followed where he
led.
And thus, in course of time, they reached the door,
held ready for their entrance by no unwilling hands.
Then slipping in, and shutting out the crowd by main
force, Gabriel stood between Mr. Haredale and Edward
Chester, and Barnaby, rushing up the stairs, fell upon
his knees beside his mother's bed.
" Such is the blessed end, sir," cried the panting lock-
smith, to Mr. Haredale, "of the best day's work we ever
did. The rogues! it's been hard fighting to get away
from 'em. I almost thought, once or twice, they'd have
been too much for us with their kindness ! "
They had striven, all the previous day, to rescue Bar-
naby from his impending fate. Failing in their attempts,
in the first quarter to which they addressed themselves,
they renewed them in another. Failing there, likewise,
they began afresh at midnight; and made their way, not
only to the judge and jury who had tried him, but to
men of influence at court, to the young Prince of Wales,
and even to the antechamber of the king himself. Sue-
cessful at last, in awakening an interest in his favor, and
an inclination to inquire more dispassionately into his
case, they had had an interview with the minister, in his
bed, so late as eight o'clock that morning. The result
of a searching inquiry (in which they, who had known
the poor fellow from his childhood, did other good service
besides bringing it about) was, that between eleven and
twelve o'clock, a free pardon to Barnaby Rudge was
made out and signed, and it trusted to a horse-soldier for
instant conveyance to the place of execution. This
274
BARNABY RUDGE.
courier reached the spot just as the cart appeared in
sight; and Barnaby being carried back to jail, Mr.
Haredale, assured that all was safe, had gone straight
from Bloomsbury Square to the Golden Key, leaving to
Gabriel the grateful task of bringing him home in tri-
umph.
" I needn't say," observed the locksmith, when he had
shaken hands with all the males in the house, and
hugged all the females, five-and-forty times, at least,
" that, except among ourselves, I didn't want to make a
triumph of it. But, directly we got into the street we
were known, and this hubbub began. Of the two," he
added, as he wiped his crimson face, " and after expe-
rience of both, I think I'd rather be taken out of my
house by a crowd of enemies, than escorted home by a
mob of friends !"
It was plain enough, however, that this was mere talk
on Gabriel's part, and that the whole proceeding afforded
him the keenest ^delight; for the people continuing to
make a great noise without, and to cheer as if their
voices were in the freshest ox-der, and good for a fort-
night, he sent up-stairs for Grip (who had come home at
his master's back, and had acknowledged the favors of
the multitude by drawing blood from every finger that
came within his reach), and with the bird upon his arm,
presented himself at the first-floor window, and waved
his hat again until it dangled by a shred, between his
fingers and thumb. This demonstration having been re-
ceived with appropriate shouts, and silence being in
some degree i-estored, he thanked them for their sympa-
thy ; and taking the liberty to inform them that there
was a sick person in the house, proposed that they
should give three cheers for King George, three more
BARNABY RUDGE.
275
for Old England, and three more for nothing particular,
as a closing ceremony. The crowd assenting, substituted
Gabriel Varden for the nothing particular; and giving
him one over, for good measure, dispersed in high good-
humor.
What congratulations were exchanged among the in-
mates at the Golden Key, when they were left alone;
what an overflowing of joy and happiness there was
among them ; how incapable it was of expression in
Barnaby's own person ; and how he went wildly from
one to another, until he became so far tranquillized, as
to stretch himself on the ground beside his mother's
couch, and fall into a deep sleep ; are matters that need
not be told. And it is well they happened to be of this
class, for they would be very hard to tell, were their nar-
ration ever so indispensable.
Before leaving this bright picture, it may be well to
glance at a dark and very different one which was pre-
sented to only a few eyes, that same night.
The scene was a church-yard ; the time, midnight; the
persons, Edward Chester, a clergyman, a grave-digger,
and the four bearers of a homely coffin. They stood
about a grave which had been newly dug, and one of the
bearers held up a dim lantern, — the only light there, —
which shed its feeble ray upon the book of prayer. He
placed it for a moment on the coffin, when he and his
companions were about to lower it down. There was no
inscription on the lid.
The mould fell solemnly upon the last house of this
nameless man ; and the rattling dust left a dismal echo
iven in the accustomed ears of those who had borne it
to its resting-place. The grave was filled in to the top,
and trodden down. They all left the spot together.
BARNABY RUDGE.
"You never saw him, living ?" asked the clergyman
of Edward.
" Often, years ago ; not knowing him for my brother."
" Never since ? "
"Never. Yesterday, he steadily refused to see me.
It was urged upon him, many times, at my desire."
" Still he refused ? That was hardened and unnatu-
ral."
" Do you think so ? "
" I infer that you do not ? "
" You are right. We hear the world wonder, every
day, at monsters of ingratitude. Did it never occur to
you that it often looks for monsters of affection, as
though they were things of course ? "
They had reached the gate by this time, and bidding
each other good-night, departed on their separate ways.
BARN A BY RUDGE.
277
CHAPTER LXXX.
That afternoon, when he had slept off his fatigue;
had shaved, and washed, and dressed, and freshened
himself from top to toe; when he had dined, comforted
himself with a pipe, an extra Toby, a nap in the great
arm-chair, and a quiet chat with Mrs. Varden on every-
thing that had happened, was happening, or about to
happen, within the sphere of their domestic concern;
the locksmith sat himself down at the tea-table in the
little back-parlor: the rosiest, cosiest, merriest, heartiest,
best-contented old buck, in Great Britain or out of
it.
There he sat, with his beaming eye on Mrs. V., and
his shining face suffused with gladness, and bis capacious
waistcoat smiling in every wrinkle, and bis jovial humor
peeping from under the table in the very plumpness of
his legs: a sight to turn the vinegar of misanthropy into
purest milk of human kindness. There he sat, watch-
ing his wife as she decorated the room with flowers for
the greater honor of Dolly and Joseph Willet, who had
gone out walking, and for whom the tea-kettle had been
singing gayly on the hob full twenty minutes, chirping
as never kettle chirped before; for whom the best ser-
vice of real undoubted china, patterned with divers
••ound-faced mandarins holding up broad umbrellas, was
now displayed in all its glory ; to t&mpt whose appetites
a clear, transparent, juicy ham, garnished 'with cool
278
BARNABY RUDGE.
green lettuce-leaves and fragrant cucumber, reposed upon
a shady table, covered with a snow-white cloth; for whose
delight, preserves and jams, crisp cakes and other pas-
try, short to eat, with cunning twists, and cottage loaves,
and rolls of bread both white and brown, were all set
forth in rich profusion; in whose youth Mrs. V. herself
had grown quite young, and stood there in a gown of
red and white: symmetrical in figure, buxom in bodice,
ruddy in cheek and lip, faultless in ankle, laughing in
face and mood, in all respects delicious to behold — there
sat the locksmith among all and every these delights, the
sun that shone upon them all: the centre of the system:
the source of light, heat, life, and frank enjoyment in the
bright household world.
And when had Dolly ever been the Dolly of that af-
ternoon ? To see how she came in arm-in-arm with Joe;
and how she made an effort not to blush or seem at all
confused ; and how she made believe she didn't care to
sit on his side of the table ; and how she coaxed the
locksmith in a whisper not to joke; and how her color
came and went in a little restless flutter of happiness,
which made her do everything wrong, and yet so charm-
ingly wrong that it was better than right! — why, the
locksmith could have looked on at this (as he mentioned
to Mrs. Varden when they retired for the night) for
four-and-twenty hours at a stretch, and never wished it
done.
The recollections, too, with which they made merry
over that long-protracted tea! The glee with which
the locksmith asked Joe if he remembered that stormy
.light at the Maypole when he first asked after Dolly —
the laugh they all had, about that night when she was
going out to the party in the sedan-chair — the unmer-
BARNABY RUDGE.
279
ciful manner in which they rallied Mrs. Yarden aboul
patting those flowers outside that very window — th".
difficulty Mrs. Varden found in joining the laugh against
herself, at first, and the extraordinary perception she had
of the joke when she overcame it — the confidential
statements of Joe concerning the precise day and houi
when he was first conscious of being fond of Dolly, and
Dolly's blushing admissions, half-volunteered and half
extorted, as to the time from which she dated the dis-
covery that she "didn't mind" Joe — here was an ex-
haustless fund of mirth and conversation!
Then, there was a great deal to be said regarding
Mrs. Varden's doubts, and motherly alarms, and shrewd
suspicions: and it appeared that from Mrs. Varden's
penetration and extreme sagacity nothing had ever been
hidden. She had known it all along. She had seen
it from the first. She had always predicted it. She
had been aware of it before the principals. She had
said within herself (for she remembered the exact
wgrds) " that young Willet is certainly looking after our
Dolly, and I must look after him." Accordingly, she
had looked after him, and had observed many little cir-
cumstances (all of which she named) so exceedingly
minute that nobody else could make anything out of
them even now ; and had, it seemed from first to last,
displayed the most unbounded tact and most consummate
generalship.
Of course the night when Joe would ride home war i
by the side of the chaise, and when Mrs. Varden would
nsist upon his going back again, was not forgotten —
uor the night when Dolly fainted on his name being men-
tioned — nor the times upon times when Mrs. Varden,
ever watchful and prudent, had found her pining in her
280
BARNABY RUDGE.
own chamber. In short, nothing was forgotten; and every-
thing by some means or other brought them back to the
conclusion, that that was the happiest hour in all their
lives ; consequently, that everything must have occurred
for the best, and nothing could be suggested which would
have made it better.
While they were in the full glow of such discourse as
this, there came a startling knock at the door, opening
from the street into the workshop, which had been kept
closed all day that the bouse might be more quiet. Joe,
as in duty bound, would hear of nobody but himself
going to open it; and accordingly left the room for that
purpose.
It would have been odd enough, certainly, if Joe had
forgotten the way to this door; and even if he had, as
it was a pretty large one and stood straight before him,
he could not easily have missed it. But Dolly, perhaps
because she was in the flutter of spirits before men-
tioned, or perhaps because she thought he would not be
able to open it with his one arm — she could have had
no other reason — hurried out after him; and they
stopped so long in the passage — no doubt owing to
Joe's entreaties that she would not expose herself to
the draught of July air which must infallibly come
rushing in on this same door being opened — that the
knock was repeated, in a yet more startling manner
than before.
"Is anybody going to open that door ? " cried the lock-
smith. " Or shall I come ? "
Upon that. Dolly went running back into the parlor,
all dimples and blushes; and Joe opened it with a
mighty noise, and other superfluous demonstrations of
jeing in a violent hurry.
BARNABY RUDGE.
281
" Well," said the locksmith, when he reappeared:
" what is it ? eh Joe ? what are you laughing at ? "
" Nothing sir. It's coming in."
" Who's coming in ? what's coming in ? " Mrs. Var-
den, as much at a loss as her husband, could only shake
her head in answer to his inquiring look: so, the lock-
smith wheeled his chair round to command a better view
of the room-door, and stared at it with his eyes wide
open, and a mingled expression of curiosity and wonder
shining in his jolly face.
Instead of some person or persons straightway ap-
pearing, divers remarkable sounds were heard, first in
the workshop and afterwards in the little dark passage
between it and the parlor, as though some unwieldy chest
or heavy piece of furniture were being brought in, by
an amount of human strength inadequate to the task.
At length after much struggling and bumping, and bruis-
ing of the wall on both sides, the door was forced open
as by a battering-ram; and the locksmith, steadily re-
garding what appeared beyond, smote his thigh, elevated
his eyebrows, opened his mouth, and cried in a loud voice
expressive of the utmost consternation : —
" Damme, if it a'n't Miggs come back ! "
The young damsel whom he named no sooner heard
these words, than deserting a very small boy and a very
large box by which she was accompanied, and advancing
with such precipitation that her bonnet flew off her head,
burst into the room, clasped her hands (in which she held
a pair of pattens, one in each), raised her eyes devotedly
to the ceiling, and shed a flood of tears.
" The old story!" cried the locksmith, looking at her
in inexpressible desperation. " She was born tq. be a
damper, this young woman! nothing can prevent it 1"
282
BARNABY RUDGE.
" Ho master, ho mim ! " cried Miggs, " can I constrain
my feelings in these here once agin united moments!
Ho Mr. Warsen, here's blessedness among relations, sir!
Here's forgiveness of injuries, here's amicableness ! "
The locksmith looked from his wife to Dolly, and from
Dolly to Joe, and from Joe to Miggs, with his eyebrows
still elevated and his mouth still open. When his eyes
got back to Miggs, they rested on her; fascinated.
" To think," cried Miggs with hysterical joy, " that
Mr. Joe, and dear Miss Dolly, has raly come together
after all as has been said and done contrairy ! To see
them two a-settin' along with him and her, so pleasant
and in all respects so affable and mild; and me not know-
ing of it, and not being in the ways to make no prepara-
tions for their teas. Ho what a cutting thing it is, and
yet what sweet sensations is awoke within me !"
Either in clasping her hands again, or in an ecstasy
of pious joy, Miss Miggs clinked her pattens after the
manner of a pair of cymbals, at this juncture ; and then
resumed, in the softest accents: —
" And did my missis think — ho goodness, did she
think — as her own Miggs, which supported her under
so many trials, and understood her natur' when them as
intended well but acted rough, went so deep into her
feelings — did she think as her own Miggs would ever
leave her? Did she think as Miggs, though she was
but a servant, and knowed that servitudes was no inheri-
tances, would forgit that she was the humble instruments
is always made it comfortable between them two when
they fell out, and always told master of the meekness
and forgiveness of her blessed dispositions! Did she
thiiflfc as Miggs had no attachments! Did she think
that wages was her only object! "
BARNABY RUDGE.
283
To none of these interrogatories, whereof every one
was more pathetically delivered than the last, did Mrs.
Varden answer one word: but Miggs, not at all abashed
by this circumstance, turned to the small boy in attend-
ance — her eldest nephew — son of her own married
sister — born in Golden Lion Court, number twenty-
sivin, and bred in the very shadow of the second bell
handle on the right hand door-post — and with a plenti-
ful use of her pocket handkerchief, addressed herself to
him; requesting that on his return home he would con-
sole his parents for the loss of her, his aunt, by deliver-
ing to them a faithful statement of his having left her in
the bosom of that family, with which, as his aforesaid
parents well knew, her best affections were incorporated;
that he would remind them that nothing less than her
imperious sense of duty, and devoted attachment to her
old master and missis, likewise Miss Dolly and young
Mr. Joe, should ever have induced her to decline that
pressing invitation which they, his parents, had, as he
could testify, given her, to lodge and board with them,
free of all cost and charge, for evermore ; lastly, that he
would help her with her box up-stairs, and then repair
straight home, bearing her blessing and her strong in-
junctions to mingle in his prayers a supplication that he
might in course of time grow up a locksmith, or a Mr.
Joe, and have Mrs. Yardens, and Miss Dollys for his
relations and friends.
Having brought this admonition to an end — upon
which, to say the truth, the young gentleman for whose
benefit it was designed, bestowed little or no heed, hav-
ing to all appearance his faculties absorbed in the con-
templation of the sweetmeats, — Miss Miggs signify to
the company in general that they were not to be uneasy,
284
BARNABY BUDGE.
for she would soon return; and, with her nephew's aid,
prepared to bear her wardrobe up the staircase.
" My dear," said the locksmith to his wife. " Do you
desire this ? "
" I desire it!" she answered. " I am astonished — I
nin amazed — at her audacity. Let her leave the house
this moment."
Miggs hearing this, let her end of the box fall heavily
Co the floor, gave a very loud sniff, crossed her arms,
screwed down the corners of her mouth, and cried, in
an ascending scale, " Ho, good gracious!" three distinct
times.
" You hear what your mistress says, my love," re-
marked the locksmith. " You had better go, I think.
Stay; take this with you, for the sake of old service."
Miss Miggs clutched the bank-note he took from his
pocket-book and held out to her ; deposited it in a small
red leather purse; put the purse in her pocket (display-
ing as she did so, a considerable portion of some under
garment, made of flannel, and more black cotton stock-
ing than is commonly seen in public) ; and, tossing her
head, as she looked at Mrs. Varden, repeated —
" Ho, good gracious!"
" I think you said that once before, my dear," ob-
served the locksmith.
" Times is changed, is they, mim!" cried Miggs,
bridling ; " you can spare me now, can you ? You can
keep 'em down without me? You're not in wants of
uny one to scold, or throw the blame upon, no longer,
a'n't you, mim ? I'm glad to find you've grown so inde-
pendent. I wish you joy, I'm sure ! "
With that she dropped a courtesy, and keeping her
head erect, her ear towards Mrs. Varden, and her eye
BARNABY RUDGE.
285
on the rest of the company, as she alluded to them in
her remarks, proceeded:
" I'm quite delighted, I'm sure, to find sich indepen-
dency, feeling sorry though, at the same time, mim, that
you should have been forced into submissions when you
couldn't help yourself — he, he, he ! It must be great
vexations, 'specially considering how ill you always
spoke of Mr. Joe — to have him for a son-in-law at
last; and I wonder Miss Dolly can put up with him
either, after being off and on for so many years with a
coach-maker. But I have heerd say, that the coach-
maker thought twice about it — he, he, he ! — and
that he told a young man as was a friend of his,
that he hoped he knowed better than to be drawed
into that; though she and all the family did pull un-
common strong!"
Here she paused for a reply, and receiving none, went
on as before.
" I have heerd say, mim, that the illness of some ladies
was all pretensions, and that they could faint away, stone
dead, whenever they had the inclinations so to do. Of
course I never see sich cases with my own eyes — ho
no! He, he, he ! Nor master neither — ho no ! He,
he, he! I have heerd the neighbors make remark as
6ome one as they was acquainted with, was a poor good-
natur'd mean-spirited creetur, as went out fishing for a
wife one day, and caught a Tartar. Of course I never
to my knowledge see the poor person himself. Nor did
you neither, mim — ho no. I wonder who it can be —
don't you, mim ? No doubt you do, mim. Ho yes.
He, he, he ! "
Again Miggs paused for a reply; and none being
sffered, was so oppressed witb teeming spite and spleen,
that S.he seemed like to burst.
286
BARNABY RUDGE.
" I'm glad Miss Dolly can laugh," cried Miggs with a
feeble titter. " I like to see folks a-laughing — so do
you, mim, don't you ? You was always glad to see
people in spirits, wasn't you, mim ? And you always
did your best to keep 'em cheerful, didn't you, mim?
Though there a'n't such a great deal to laugh at now,
either ; is there, mim ? It a'n't so much of a catch, after
looking out so sharp ever since she was a little chit, and
costing such a deal in dress and show, to get a poor
common soldier, with one arm, is it, mim ? He he ! I
wouldn't have a husband with one arm, anyways. I
would have two arms. I would have two arms, if it
was me, though instead of hands they'd only got hooks
at the end, like our dustman!"
Miss Miggs was about to add, and had, indeed, begun
to add, that, taking them in the abstract, dustmen were
far more eligible matches than soldiers, though, to be
sure, when people were past choosing they must take
the best they could get, and think themselves well off
too; but her vexation and chagrin being of that inter-
nally bitter sort which finds no relief in words, and is
aggravated to madness by want of contradiction, she
could hold out no longer, and burst into a storm of
sobs and tears.
In this extremity she fell on the unlucky nephew,
tooth and nail, and plucking a handful of hair 'from his
head, demanded to know how long she was to stand there
to be insulted, and whether or no he meant to help her
to carry out the box again, and if he took a pleasure in
hearing his family reviled: with other inquiries of that
nature; at which disgrace and provocation, the small
boy, who had been all this time gradually lashed into
rebellion by the sight of unattainable pastry, walked off
UARNABY RUDGE.
287
indignant, leaving his aunt and the box to follow at their
leisure. Somehow or other, by dint of pushing and pull-
ing, they did attain the street at last; where Miss Miggs,
all blowzed with the exertion of getting there, and with
her sobs and tears, sat down upon her property to rest
and grieve, until she could ensnare some other youth t
help her home.
" It's a thing to laugh at, Martha, not to care for,"
whispered the locksmith, as he followed his wife to the
window, and good-humoredly dried her eyes. " What
does it matter ? You had seen your fault before.
Come! Bring up Toby again, my dear; Dolly shall
sing us a song; and we'll be all the merrier for this
interruption!" .
288
barnaby budge.
CHAPTER LXXXI.
Another month had passed, and the end of August
had nearly come, when Mr. Haredale stood alone in
the mail-coach office at Bristol. Although but a few
weeks had intervened since his conversation with Ed-
ward Chester and his niece in the locksmith's house, and
he had made no change, in the mean time, in his
accustomed style of dress, his appearance was greatly
altered. He looked much older, and more careworn.
Agitation and anxiety of mind scatter wrinkles and
gray hairs with no unsparing hand ; but deeper traces
follow on the silent uprooting of old habits, and sever-
ing of dear, familiar ties. The affections may not be
so easily wounded as the passions, but their hurts are
deeper, and more lasting. He was now a solitary man,
and the heart within him was dreary and lonesome.
He was not the less alone for having spent so many
years in seclusion and retirement. This was no better
preparation tban a round of social cheerfulness: per-
haps it even increased the keenness of his sensibility.
He had been so dependent upon her for companion-
ship and love; she had come to be so much a part and
parcel of his existence ; they had had so many cares and
thoughts in common, which no one else had shared;
that losing her was beginning life anew, and being re-
quired to summon up the hope and elasticity of youth,
amid the doubts, distrusts, and weakened energies of age.
BARNABY BUDGE
289
The effort he had made to part from her with seem-
ing cheerfulness and hope — and they had parted only
yesterday — left him the more depressed. With these
feelings, he was about to revisit London for the last time,
and look once more upon the walls of their old home,
before turning his back upon it, forever.
The journey was a very different one, in those days,
from what the present generation find it ; but it came to
an end, as the longest journey will, and he stood again
in the streets of the metropolis. He lay at the inn
where the coach stopped, and resolved, before he went
to bed, that he would make his arrival known to no one ;
would spend but another night in London; and would
spare himself the pang of parting, even with the honest
locksmith.
Such conditions of the mind as that to which he was
a prey when he lay down to rest, are favorable to the
growth of disordered fancies, and uneasy visions. He
knew this, even in the horror with which he started from
his first sleep, and threw up the window to dispel it by
the presence of some object, beyond the room, which had
not been, as it were, the witness of his dream. But. it
was not a new terror of the night; it had been present
to him before, in many shapes; it had haunted him in
bygone times, and visited his pillow again and again.
If it had been but an ugly object, a childish spectre,
haunting his sleep, its return, in its old form, might have
awakened a momentary sensation of fear, which, almost
in the act of waking, would have passed away. This
disquiet, however, lingered about him, and would yield
to nothing. When he closed his eyes again, he felt it
hovering near; as he slowly sunk into a slumber, he
was conscious of its gathering strength and purpose, and
voi.. jii 19
290
BARNABY BUDGE.
gradually assuming its recent shape; when he sprang
up from his bed, the same phantom vanished from his
heated brain, and left him filled with a dread, against
which reason and waking thought were powerless.
The sun was up, before he could shake it off. He
rose late, but not refreshed, and remained within doors
all that day. He had a fancy for paying his last visit
to the old spot in the evening, for he had been accus-
tomed to walk there at that season, and desired to see
it under the aspect that was most familiar to him. At
such an hour as would afford him time to reach it a
little before sunset, he left the inn, and turned into the
busy street.
He had not gone far, and was thoughtfully making his
way among the noisy crowd, when he felt a hand upon
his shoulder, and turning, recognized one of the waiters
from the inn, who begged his pardon, but he had left his
sword behind him.
" Why have you brought it to me ? " he asked, stretch-
ing out his hand, and yet not taking it from the man,
but looking at him in a disturbed and agitated manner.
The man was sorry to have disobliged him, and would
carry it back again. The gentleman had said that he
was going a little way into the country, and that he
might not return until late. The roads were not very
safe for single travellers after dark ; and since the riots,
gentlemen had been more careful than ever not to trust
themselves unarmed in lonely places. " We thought you
were a stranger, sir," he added, "and that you might
believe our roads to be better than they are; but per
haps you know them well and carry fire-arms" —
He took the sword, and putting it up at his side,
thanked the man, and resumed his walk.
BARNABY RUDGE.
291
It was long remembered that he did this in a man-
ner so strange, and with such a trembling hand, that
the messenger stood looking after his retreating figure,
doubtful whether he ought not to follow, and watch him.
It was long remembered that he had been heard pac-
ing his bedroom in the dead of the night; that the
attendants had mentioned to each other in the morning,
how fevered and how pale he looked ; and that when
this man went back to the inn, he told a fellow-servant
that what he had observed in this short interview lay
very heavy on his mind, and that he feared the gentle-
man intended to destroy himself, and would never come
back alive.
With a half consciousness that his manner had at-
tracted the man's attention (remembering the expression
of his face when they parted), Mr. Haredale quickened
his steps; and arriving at a stand of coaches, bargained
with the driver of the best to carry him so far on his
road as the point where the footway struck across the
fields, and to await his return at a house of entertain-
ment which was within a stone's-throw of that place.
Arriving there in due course, he alighted and pursued
his way on foot.
He passed so near the Maypole, that he could see its
smoke rising from among the trees, while a flock of
pigeons — some of its old inhabitants, doubtless — sailed
gayly home to roost, between him and the unclouded sky.
" The old house will brighten up now," he said, as he
looked towards it, " and there will be a merry fireside
beneath its ivied roof. It is some comfort to know that
everything will not be blighted hereabouts. I shall be
glad to have one picture of life and cheerfulness to turn
to, in my mind ! "
292
BARNABY RUDGE.
He resumed his walk, and bent his steps towards the
Warren. It was a clear, calm, silent evening, with
hardly a breath of wind to stir the leaves, or any sound
to break the stillness of the time, but drowsy sheep-bells
tinkling in the distance, and, at intervals, the far-off
lowing of cattle, or bark of village-dogs. The sky was
radiant with the softened glory of sunset; and on the
earth, and in the air, a deep repose prevailed. At such
an hour he arrived at the deserted mansion which had
been his home so long, and looked for the last time upon
its blackened walls.
The ashes of the commonest fire are melancholy things,
for in them there is an image of death and ruin, — of
something that has been bright, and is but dull, cold,
dreary dust, — with which our nature forces us to sym-
pathize. How much more sad the crumbled embers of
a home ; the casting down of that great altar, where
the worst among us sometimes perform the worship of
the heart; and where the best have offered up such
sacrifices, and done such deeds of heroism, as, chron-
icled, would put the proudest temples of old Time, with
all their vaunting annals, to the blush.
He roused himself from a long train of meditation,
and walked slowly round the house. It was by this
time almost dark.
He had nearly made the circuit of the building, when
he uttered a half-suppressed exclamation, started, and
stood still. Reclining, in an easy attitude, with his
back against a tree, and contemplating the ruin with
sn expression of pleasure, — a pleasure so keen that
it overcame his habitual indolence and command of
feature, and displayed itself utterly free from all re-
straint or reserve, —before him, on his own ground, and
BARNABY RUDGE.
203
triumphing then, as he had triumphed in every mis-
fortune and disappointment of his life, stood the man
whose presence, of all mankind, in any place, and least
of all in that, he could the least endure.
Although his blood so rose against this man, and his
wrath so stirred within him, that he could have struck
him dead, he put such fierce constraint upon himself
that he passed him without a word or look. Yes, and
he would have gone on, and not turned, though to resist
the Devil who poured such hot temptation in his brain,
required an effort scarcely to be achieved, if this man
had not himself summoned him to stop: and that, with
an assumed compassion in his voice which drove him
wellnigh mad, and in an instant routed all the self-
command it had been anguish — acute, poignant anguish
— to sustain.
All consideration, reflection, mercy, forbearance ;
everything by which a goaded man can curb his rage
and passion ; fled from him as he turned back. And
yet he said, slowly and quite calmly — far more calmly
than he had ever spoken to him before :
" Why have you called to me ? "
" To remark," said Sir John Chester with his wonted
composure, " what an odd chance it is, that we should
meet here!"
" It is a strange chance."
" Strange % The most remarkable and singular thing
in the world. I never ride in the evening; I have not
done so for years. The whim seized me, quite unac-
countably, in the middle of last night. — How very pic-
turesque this is!" — He pointed, as he spoke, to the
dismantled house, and raised his glass to his eye.
"You praise your own work very freely."
294
BARNABY RUDGE.
Sir John let fall his glass; inclined his face towards
him with an air of the most courteous inquiry; and
slightly shook his head as though he were remarking to
himself, " I fear this animal is going mad !"
"I say you praise your own work very freely," re-
peated Mr. Haredale.
" Work !" echoed Sir John, looking smilingly round.
" Mine ! — I beg your pardon, I really beg your par-
don " —
"Why, you see," said Mr. Haredale, "those walls.
You see those tottering gables. You see on every side
where fire and smoke have raged. You see the destruc-
lion that has been wanton here. Do you not! "
" My good friend," returned the knight, gently check-
ing his impatience with his hand, "of course I do. I
see everything you speak of, when you stand aside, and
do not interpose yourself between the view and me. I
am very sorry for you. If I had not had the pleasure
to meet you here, I think I should have written to tell
you so. But you don't bear it as well as I had expected
— excuse me — no, you don't indeed."
He pulled out his snuff-box, and addressing him with
the superior air of a man who, by reason of his higher
nature, has a right to read a moral lesson to another,
continued:
"For you are a philosopher, you know — one of that
stern and rigid school who are far above the weaknesse®
of mankind in general. You are removed, a long way,
from the frailties of the crowd. You contemplate them
from a height, and rail at them with a most impressive
bitterness. I have heard you."
— " And shall again," said Mr. Haredale.
"Thank you," returned the other. "Shall we walk
BARNABY RUDGE.
295
as we talk ? The damp falls rather heavily. Well, —
as you please. But I grieve to say that I can spare you
only a very few moments."
" I would," said Mr. Haredale, " you had spared me
none. I would, with all my soul, you had been in Para-
dise (if such a monstrous lie could be enacted), rather
than here to-night."
" Nay," returned the other — " really — you do your-
self injustice. You are a rough companion, but I would
not go so far to avoid you."
" Listen to me," said Mr. Haredale. " Listen to me."
" While you rail ? " inquired Sir John.
" While I deliver your infamy. You urged and stim-
ulated to do your work a fit agent, but one who in his
nature — in the very essence of his being — is a traitor,
and who has been false to you (despite the sympathy
you two should have together) as he has been to all
others. With hints, and looks, and crafty words, which
told again are nothing, you set on Gashford to this work
— this work before us now. With these same hints, and
looks, and crafty words, which told again are nothing,
you urged him on to gratify the deadly hate he owes me
— I have earned it, I thank Heaven — by the abduction
and dishonor of my niece. You did. I see denial in
your looks," he cried, abruptly pointing in his face, and
stepping back, " and denial is a lie ! "
He had his hand upon his sword; but the knight, with
a contemptuous smile, replied to him as coldly as before.
"You will take notice, sir — if you can discriminate
sufficiently — that I have taken the trouble to deny
nothing. Your discernment is hardly fine enough for
the perusal of faces, not of a kind as coarse as your
speech ; nor has it ever been, that I remember; or, in
296
BAKNABY RDDGE.
one face that I could name, you would have read indif-
ference, not to say disgust, somewhat sooner than you
did. I speak of a long time ago, — but you understand
me."
" Disguise it as you will, you mean denial. Denial
explicit or reserved, expressed or left to be inferred, is
still a lie. You say you don't deny. Do you admit ? "
" You yourself," returned Sir John, suffering the cur-
rent of his speech to flow as smoothly as if it had been
stemmed by no one word of interruption, " publicly pro-
claimed the character of the gentleman in question (I
think it was in Westminster Hall) in terms which relieve
me from the necessity of making any further allusion to
him. You may have been warranted; you may not
have been ; I can't say. Assuming the gentleman to be
what you described, and to have made to you or any
other person any statements that may have happened to
suggest themselves to him, for the sake of his own se-
curity, or for the sake of money, or for his own amuse-
ment, or for any other consideration, — I have nothing
to say of him, except that his extremely degrading situ-
ation appears to me to be shared with his employers.
You "are so very plain yourself that you will excuse a
little freedom in me, I am sure."
" Attend to me again, Sir John — but once," cried Mr.
Haredale ; " in your every look, and word, and gesture,
you tell me this was not your act. I tell you that it
was, and that you tampered with the man I speak of,
and with your wretched son (whom God forgive !) to do
this deed. You talk of degradation and character. You
told me once that'you had purchased the absence of the
poor idiot and his mother, when (as I have discovered
since, and then suspected) you had gone to tempt them,
BARNABY RUDGE.
297
and had found them flown. To you I traced the insinu-
ation that I alone reaped any harvest from my brother's
death; and all the foul attacks and whispered calumnies
that followed in its train. In every action of my life,
from that first hope which you converted into grief and
desolation, you have stood, like an adverse fate, between
me and peace. In all, you have ever been the same
cold-blooded, hollow, false, unworthy villain. For the
second time, and for the last, I cast these charges in your
teeth, and spurn you from me as I would a faithless
dog!"
With that, he raised his arm, and struck him on the
breast so that he staggered. Sir John, the instant he
recovered, drew his sword, threw away the scabbard and
his hat, and running on his adversary, made a desperate
lunge at his heart, which, but that his guard was quick
and true, would have stretched him dead upon the grass.
In the act of striking him, the torrent of his oppo-
nent's rage had reached a stop. He parried his rapid
thrusts, without returning them, and called to him, with
a frantic kind of terror in his face, to keep back.
" Not to-night! not to-night! " he cried. " In God's
name, not to-night! "
Seeing that he lowered his weapon, and that he would
not thrust in turn, Sir John lowered his.
"Not to-night!" his adversary cried. "Be warned
n time!"
" You told me — it must have been in a sort of inspi-
ration " — said Sir John, quite deliberately, though now
le dropped his mask, and showed his hatred in his face,
"that this was the last time. Be assured it is! Did
'-ou believe our last meeting was forgotten ? Did you
believe that your every word and look was not to be ac-
298
BARNABY RUDGE.
counted frr, and was not well remembered ? Do you
believe that I have waited your time, or you mine ?
What kind of man is he who entered, with all his sick-
ening cant of honesty and truth, into a bond with me to
prevent a marriage he affected to dislike, and when I
iad redeemed my part to the spirit and the letter,
rkulked from his, and brought the match about in his
awn time, to rid himself of a burden he had grown tired
of, and cast a spurious lustre on his house ? "
k I have acted," cried Mr. Haredale, " with honor and
in good faith. I do so now. Do not force me to renew
this duel to-night ! "
" You said my ' wretched' son, I think ?" said Sir
John, with a smile. " Poor fool! The dupe of such a
shallow knave — trapped into marriage by such an un-
cle and by such a niece — he well deserves your pity.
But he is no longer a son of mine: you are welcome to
the prize your craft has made, sir."
" Once more," cried his opponent, wildly stamping on
the ground, " although you tear me from my better an-
gel, I implore you not to come within the reach of my
sword to-night. Oh ! why were you here at all! Why
have we met! To-morrow would have cast us far apart
forever!"
" Tnat being the case," returned Sir John, without the
least emotion, " it is very fortunate we have met to-night.
Haredaie, 1 have always despised you, as you know, but
I have given you credit for a species of brute courage.
For the honor of my judgment, which I had thought a
good one, I am sorry to find you a coward."
Not another word was spoken on either side. They
crossed swords, though it was now quite dusk, and at-
tacked each othoi fieicely. They were well matched,
BA.RNAI5Y RUDGE.
299
and each was thoroughly skilled in the management of
his weapon.
After a few seconds they grew hotter and more furi-
ous, and pressing on each other inflicted and received
several slight wounds. It was directly after receiving
one of these in his arm, that Mr, Haredale, making a
keener thrust as he felt the warm blood spirting out,
plunged his sword through his opponent's body to the
hilt.
Their eyes met, and were on each other as he drew it
out. He put his arm about the dying man, who re-
pulsed him, feebly, and dropped upon the turf. Raising
himself upon his hands, he gazed at him for an instant,
with scorn and hatred in his look ; hut, seeming to re-
member, even then, that this expression would distort
his features after death, he tried to smile, and, faintly
moving his right hand, as if to hide his bloody linen in
his vest, fell back dead — the phantom of last night.
baknaby kudge.
CHAPTER THE LAST.
A parting glance at such of the actors in this little
history as it has not, in the course of its events, dis-
missed, will bring it to an end.
Mr. Haredale fled that night. Before pursuit could
be begun, indeed before Sir John was traced or missed,
he had left the kingdom. Repairing straight to a re-
ligious establishment, known throughout Europe for the
rigor and severity of its discipline, and for the merciless
penitence it exacted from those who sought its shelter as
a refuge from the world, he took the vows which thence-
forth shut him out from nature and his kind, and after a
few remorseful years was buried in its gloomy cloisters.
Two days elapsed before the body of Sir John was
found. As soon as it was recognized and carried home,
the faithful valet, true to his master's creed, eloped with
all the cash and movables he could lay his hands on, and
started as a finished gentleman upon his own account.
In this career he met with great success, and would cer-
tainly have married an heiress in the end, but for an
unlucky check which led to his premature decease. He
sank under a contagious disorder, very prevalent at that
time, and vulgarly termed the jail fever.
Lord George Gordon, remaining in his prison in the
Tower until Monday the fifth of February in the follow-
ing year, was on that day solemnly tried at Westminster
for High Treason. Of this crime he was, after a patient
BARN A BY RUDGE.
301
investigation, declared Not Guilty; upon the ground that
there was no proof of his having called the multitude
together with any traitorous or unlawful intentions. Yet
so many people were there, still, to whom those riots
taught no lesson of reproof or moderation, that a public
subscription was set on foot in Scotland to defray the
cost of his defence.
For seven years afterwards he remained, at the strong
intercession of his friends, comparatively quiet; saving
that he, every now and then, took occasion to display his
real for the Protestant faith in some extravagant pro-
ceeding which was the delight of its enemies: and sav-
ing, besides, that he was formally excommunicated by
the Archbishop of Canterbury, for refusing to appear as
a witness in the Ecclesiastical Court when cited for that
purpose. In the year 1788 he was stimulated by some
new insanity to write and publish an injurious pamphlet,
reflecting on the Queen of France, in very violent terms.
Being indicted for the libel, and (after various strange
demonstrations in court) found guilty, he fled into Hoi-
land in place of appearing to receive sentence: from
whence, as the quiet burgomasters of Amsterdam had no
relish for his company, he was sent home again with all
speed. Arriving in the month of July at Harwich, and
going thence to Birmingham, he made, in the latter
place, in August, a public profession of the Jewish re-
ligion; and figured there as a Jew until he was ar-
rested, and brought back to London to receive the sen-
tence he had evaded. By virtue of this sentence he was,
in the month of December, cast into Newgate for five
years and ten months, and required besides to pay a
large fine, and to furnish heavy securities for his future
good behavior.
302
BARNABY RUDGE.
After addressing, in the midsummer of the following
year, an appeal to the commiseration of the National As-
sembly of France, which the English minister refused to
sanction, he composed himself to undergo his full term
of punishment; and suffering his beard to grow nearly
to his waist, and conforming in all respects to the cere-
monies of his new religion, he applied himself to the
study of history, and occasionally to the art of painting,
in which, in his younger days, he had shown some skill.
Deserted by his former friends, and treated in all re-
spects like the worst criminal in the jail, he lingered on,
quite cheerful and resigned, until the 1st of November,
1793, when he died in his cell, being then only three-
and-forty years of age.
Many men with fewer sympathies for the distressed
and needy, with less abilities and harder hearts, have
made a shining figure and left a brilliant fame. He had
his mourners. The prisoners bemoaned his loss, and
missed him; for though his means were not large his
charity was great, and in bestowing alms among them
he considered the necessities of all alike, and knew no
distinction of sect or creed. There are wise men in the
highways of the world who may learn something, even
from this poor crazy lord who died in Newgate.
To the last, he was truly served by bluff John Grueby
John was at his side before he had been four-and-twenty
hours in the Tower, and never left him until he died.
He had one other constant attendant, in the person of a
beautiful Jewish girl ; who attached herself to him from
feelings half religious, half romantic, but whose virtuous
and disinterested character appears to have been beyond
the censure even of the most censorious.
Gashford deserted him, of course. He subsisted for a
BARNABY RUPOK.
308
time upon his traffic in his master's secrets; ami, this
trade failing when the stock was quite exhausted, pro-
cured an appointment in the honorable corps of spies
and eaves-droppers employed by the government. As
one of these wretched underlings, he did his drudgery,
sometimes abroad, sometimes at home, and long endured
the various miseries of such a station. Ten or a dozen
years ago —not more—a meagre, wan old man, dis-
eased and miserably poor, was found dead in his bed
at an obscure inn in the Borough, where he was quite
unknown. He had taken poison.. There was no clew
to his name ; but it was discovered from certain entries
in a pocket-book he carried, that he had been secre-
tary to Lord George Gordon in the time of the famous
riots.
Many months after the reestablishment of peace and or-
der, and even when it had ceased to be the town talk, that
every military officer, kept at free quarters by the city
during the late alarms, had cost for his board and lodg-
ing four pounds four per day, and every private soldier
two and twopence half-penny; many months after even
this engrossing topic was forgotten, and the United Bull-
Dogs were to a man all killed, imprisoned or transported,
Mr. Simon Tappertit, being removed from a hospital to
prison, and thence to his place of trial, was discharged
by proclamation, on two wooden legs. Shorn of his
graceful limbs, and brought down from his high estate
to circumstances of utter destitution, and the deepest
misery, he made shift to stump back to his old master,
and beg for some relief. By the locksmith's advice and
aid, he was established in business as a shoe-black, and
opened shop under an archway near the Horse Guards.
This being a central quarter, he quickly made a very
304
BAKNABY BUDGE.
large connection; and on levee days, was sometimes
known to have as many as twenty half-pay officers wait-
ing their turn for polishing. Indeed his trade increased
to that extent, that in course of time he entertained no
less than two apprentices, besides taking for his wife the
widow of an eminent bone and rag-collector, formerly of
Millbank. With this lady (who assisted in the business)
he lived in great domestic happiness, only checkered by
those little storms which serve to clear the atmosphere
of wedlock, and brighten its horizon. In some of these
gusts of bad weather, Mr. Tappertit would, in the asser-
tion of his prerogative, so far forget himself as to correct
his lady with a brush, or boot, or shoe; while she (but
only in extreme cases) would retaliate by taking off his
legs, and leaving him exposed to the derision of those
urchins who delight in mischief.
Miss Miggs, baffled in all her schemes, matrimonial
and otherwise, and cast upon a thankless, undeserving
world, turned very sharp and sour; and did at length
become so acid, and did so pinch and slap and tweak the
hair and noses of the youth of Golden Lion Court, that
she was by one consent expelled that sanctuary, and de-
sired to bless some other spot of earth, in preference. It
chanced at that moment, that the justices of the peace for
Middlesex proclaimed by public placard that they stood
in need of a female turnkey for the County Bridewell,
and appointed a day and hour for the inspection of
candidates. Miss Miggs, attending at the time appointed,
was instantly chosen and selected from one hundred and
twenty-four competitors, and at once promoted to the
office; which she held until her decease, more than
thirty years afterwards, remaining single all that time.
It was observed of this lady that while she was inflexi-
BARNABY RUDGE.
305
bV and grim to all her female flock, she was particularly
so to those who could establish any claim to beauty ; and
it was often remarked as a proof of her indomitable
virtue and severe chastity, that to such as had been frail
she showed no mercy ; always falling upon them on the
slightest occasion, or on no occasion at all, with the
fullest measure of her wrath. Among other useful in-
ventions which she practised upon this class .of offenders
and bequeathed to posterity, was the art of inflicting an
exquisitely vicious poke or dig with the wards of a key
in the small of the back, near the spine. She likewise
originated a mode of treading by accident (in pattens.) on
such as had small feet; also very remarkable for its in-
genuity, and previously quite unknown.
It was not very long, you may be sure, before Joe
Willet and Dolly Varden were made husband and wife,
and with a handsome sum in bank (for the locksmith
could afford to give his daughter a good dowry), re-
opened the Maypole. It was not very long, you may
be sure, before a red-faced little boy was seen staggering
about the Maypole passage, and kicking up his heels on
the green before the door. It was not very long, count-
ing by years, before there was a red-faced little girl,
another red-faced little boy, and a whole troop of girls
and boys: so that, go to Chigwell when you would, there
would surely be seen, either in the village street, or on
the green, or frolicking in the farm-yard — for it was a
arm now, as well as a tavern — more small Joes and
small Dollys than could be easily counted. It was not a
very long time before these appearances ensued ; but it
was a very long time before Joe looked five years older,
or Dolly either, or the locksmith either, or his wife
either: for cheerfulness and content are great beauti-
vol. in. 20
300
BARNABT RUDGE.
fiers, and are famous preservers of youthful looks, de-
pend upon it.
It -vas a long time, too, before there was such a coun-
try inn as the Maypole, in all England; indeed it is a
great question whether there has ever been such another
to this hour, or ever will be. It was a long time too-—
for Never, as the proverb says, is a long day — before
they forgot to have an interest in wounded soldiers at the
Maypole; or before Joe omitted to refresh them, for the
sake of his old campaign ; or before the sergeant left off
looking in there, now and then; or before they fatigued
themselves, or each other, by talking on these occasions
of battles and sieges, and hard weather and hard service,
and a thousand things belonging to a soldier's life. As
to the great silver snuff-box which the King sent Joe
with his own hand, because of his conduct in the Riots,
what guest ever went to the Maypole without putting
6nger and thumb into that box, and taking a great pinch,
though he had never taken a pinch of snuff before, and
almost sneezed himself into convulsions even then ? As
to the purple-faced vintner, where is the man who lived
in those times and never saw him at the Maypole : to all
appearance as much at home in the best room, as if he
lived there ? And as to the feastings and christenings
and revellings at Christmas, and celebrations of birth-
days, wedding-days, and all manner of days, both at the
Maypole and the Golden Key, — if they are not notori
ous, what facts are ?
Mr. Willet the elder, having been by some extraor-
dinary means possessed with the idea that Joe wanted to
be married, and that it would be well for him, his father,
to retire into private life, and enable him to live in com-
fort, took up his abode in a small cottage at Chigwell;
BARNABY RUDGE.
307
where they widened and enlarged the fire-place for him,
hung up the boiler, and furthermore planted in the little
garden outside the front-door, a fictitious Maypole: so
that he was quite at home directly. To this his new
habitation, Tom Cobb, Phil Parkes, and Solomon Daisy
went regularly every night: and in the chimney-corner,
they all four, quaffed, and smoked, and prosed, and dozed,
as they had done of old. It being accidentally dis-
covered after a short time that Mr. Willet still appeared
to consider himself a landlord by profession, Joe pro-
vided him with a slate, upon which the old man regu-
larly scored up vast accounts for meat, drink, and
tobacco. As he grew older this passion increased upon
him; and it became his delight to chalk against the name
of each -of his cronies a sum of enormous magnitude, and
impossible to be paid: and such was his secret joy in
these entries, that he would be perpetually seen going
behind the door to look at them, and coming forth again,
suffused with the liveliest satisfaction.
He never recovered the surprise the Rioters had given
him, and remained in the same mental condition down to
the last moment of his life. It was like to have been
brought to a speedy termination by the first sight of his
first grandchild, which appeared to fill him with the
belief that some alarming miraele had happened to Joe.
Being promptly blooded, however, by a skilful surgeon,
he rallied; and although the doctors all agreed, on his
being attacked with symptoms of apoplexy six months
afterwards, that he ought to die, and took it very ill that
he did not, he remained alive — possibly on account
of his constitutional slowness — for nearly seven years
more, when he was one morning found speechless in his
bed. He lay in this state, free from all tokens of un-
308
BARNABY BUDGE.
easiness, for a whole week, when he was suddenly re
stored to consciousness by hearing the nurse whisper
in his son's ear that he was going. " I'm a-going,
Joseph," said Mr. Willet, turning round upon the in-
stant, " to the Salwanners " — and immediately gave
up the ghost.
He left a large sum of money behind him; even more
than he was supposed to have been worth, although the
neighbors, according to the custom of mankind in calcu-
lating the wealth that other people ought to have saved,
had estimated his property in good round numbers. Joe
inherited the whole; so that he became a man of great
consequence in those parts, and was perfectly indepen-
dent.
Some time elapsed before Barnaby got the better of
the shock he had sustained, or regained his old health
and gayety. But he recovered by degrees: and although
he could never separate his condemnation and escape
from the idea of a terrific dream, he became, in other
respects, more rational. Dating from the time of his
recovery, he had a better memory and greater steadiness
of purpose; but a dark cloud overhung his whole previ-
ous existence, and never cleared away.
He was not the less happy for this; for his love of
freedom and interest in all that moved or grew, or had
its being in the elements, remained to him unimpaired.
He lived with his mother on the Maypole farm, tending
the poultry and the cattle, working in a garden of his
own, and helping everywhere. He was known to every
bird and beast about the place, and had a name for every
one. Never was there a lighter-hearted husbandman, a
creature more popular with young and old, a blither or
more happy soul than Barnaby; and though he was free
BARNABY RUDGE.
809
to ramble where he would, he never quitted Her, but
was for evermore her stay and comfort.
It was remarkable that although he had that dim sense
of the past, he sought out Hugh's dog, and took him
under his care; and that he never could be tempted into
London. When the Riots were many years old, and
Edward and his wife came back to England with a
family almost as numerous as Dolly's, and one day ap-
peared at .the Maypole porch, he knew them instantly,
and wept and leaped for joy. But neither to visit them,
nor on any other pretence, no matter how full of promise
and enjoyment, could he be persuaded to set foot in the
streets: nor did he ever conquer his repugnance or look
upon the town again.
Grip soon recovered his looks, and became as glossy
and sleek as ever. But he was profoundly silent.
Whether he had forgotten the art of Polite Conversation
in Newgate, or had made a vow in those troubled times
to forego, for a period, the display of his accomplishments,
is matter of uncertainty; but certain it is that for a
whole year he never indulged in any other sound than
a grave, decorous croak. At the expiration of that term
the morning being very bright and sunny, he was heard
to address himself to the horses in the stable, upon the
subject of the Kettle, so often mentioned in these pages;
and before the witness who overheard him could run into
the house with the intelligence, and add to it upon his
solemn affirmation the statement that he had heard him
laugh, the bird himself advanced with fantastic steps
to the very door of the bar, and there cried " I'm a
devil, I'm a devil, I'm a devil!" with extraordinary
rapture.
From that period (although he was supposed to be
310
BABNABY BUDGE.
much affected by the death of Mr. Willet senior), he
constantly practised and improved himself in the vulgar
tongue; and as he was a mere infant for a raven when
Barnaby was gray, he has very probably gone on talk-
ing to the present time.
THE END.
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
ILLUSTRATIVE OF
EVERY-DAY LIFE AND EVERY DAY PEOPLE
VOLDME n.
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
CHARACTERS.
( CONTINUED.)
CHAPTER IX.
the dancing academy.
Of all the dancing academies that ever were estab-
lished, there never was one more popular in its immedi-
ate vicinity than Signor Billsmethi's, of the " King's
Theatre." It was not in Spring Gardens, or Newman
Street, or Berners Street, or Gower Street, or Charlotte
Street, or Percy Street, or any other of the numerous
streets which have been devoted time out of mind to
professional people, dispensaries, and boarding-houses;
it was not in the West End at all — it rather approxi-
mated to the eastern portion of London, being situated
in the populous and improving neighborhood of Gray's
Inn Lane. It was not a dear dancing academy — four-
and-sixpence a quarter is decidedly cheap upon the
whole. It was very select, the number of pupils being
strictly limited to seventy-five, and a quarter's payment
in advance being rigidly exacted. There was public
tuition and private tuition — an assembly-room and a
parlor. Signor Bellsmethi's family were always thrown
in with the parlor, and included in parlor price; that is
to say, a private pupil had Signor Billsmethi's parlor to
8
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
dance in, and Signor Billsmethi's family to dance with ;
and when he had been sufficiently broken in in the parlor,
he began to run in couples in the Assembly-room.
Such was the dancing academy of Signor Billsmethi,
when Mr. Augustus Cooper, of Fetter Lane, first saw
an unstamped advertisement walking leisurely down Hoi-
born Hill, announcing to the world that Signor Bill-
smethi, of the King's Theatre, intended opening for the
season with a Grand Ball.
Now, Mr. Augustus Cooper was in the oil and color
line —just of age, with a little money, a little business,
and a little mother, who having managed her husband
and his business in his lifetime took to managing her son
and his business after his decease ; and so, somehow or
other, be had been cooped up in the little back-parlor
behind the shop on week days, and m a little deal box
without a lid (called by courtesy a pew) at Bethel
Chapel, on Sundays, and had seen no more of the world
than if he had been an infant all his days; whereas
Young White, at the Gas-fitter's over the way, three
years younger than him, had been flaring away like
winkin' — going to the theatre — supping at harmonic
meetings — eating oysters by the barrel — drinking stout
by the gallon — even stopping out all night, and coming
home as cool in the morning as if nothing had happened.
So Mr. Augustus Cooper made up his mind that he
would not stand it any longer, and had that very morn-
ing expressed to his mother a firm determination to be
" blowed," in the event of his not being instantly pro-
vided with a street-door key. And he was walking down
Holborn Hill, thinking about all these things, and won-
dering how he could manage to get introduced into gen-
teel society for the first time, when his eyes rested on
THE DANCING ACADEMY.
9
Signor Billsmethi's announcement, which it immediately
struck him was just the very thing he wanted; for he
should not only be able to select a genteel circle of ac-
quaintance at once, out of the five-and-seventy pupils at
four-and-sixpence a quarter, but should qualify himself
at the same time to go through a hornpipe in private
society, with perfect ease to himself, and great delight to
his friends. So, he stopped the unstamped advertise-
ment — an animated sandwich, composed of a boy be-
tween two boards — and having procured a very small
card with the Signor's address indented thereon, walked
Btraighi at once to the Signor's house — and very fast he
walked too, for fear the list should be filled up, and the
five-and-seventy completed, before he got there. The
Signor was at home, and, what was still more gratifying,
he was an Englishman! Such a nice man — and so
polite! The list was not full, but it was a most extraor-
dinary circumstance that there was only just one va-
cancy, and even that one would have been filled up, that
very morning, only Signor Billsmethi was dissatisfied
with the reference, and, being very much afraid that the
lady wasn't select, wouldn't take her.
"And very much delighted I am, Mr. Cooper," said
Signor Billsmethi, " that I did not take her. T assure
you, Mr. Cooper — I don't say it to flatter you, for I
know you're above it — that I consider myself extremely
fortunate in having a gentleman of your manners and
appearance, sir."
" I am very glad of it too, sir," said Augustus Cooper.
" And I hope we shall be better acquainted, sir," said
Signor Billsmethi.
"And I'm sure I hope we shall too, sir," responded
Augustus Cooper. Just then, the door opened, and in
10
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
came a young lady, with her hair curled in a crop all
over her head, and her shoes tied in sandals all over her
ankles.
" Don't run away, my dear," said Signor Billsmethi;
for the young lady didn't know Mr. Cooper was their
when she ran in, and was going to run out again in her
modesty, all in confusion-like. " Don't run away, my
dear," said Signor Billsmethi, " this is Mr. Cooper —
Mr. Cooper, of Fetter Lane. Mr. Cooper, my daughter,
sir — Miss Billsmethi, sir, who I hope will have the
pleasure of dancing many a quadrille, minuet, gavotte,
country-dance, fandango, double hornpipe, and farinaghol-
kajingo with you, sir. She dances them all, sir; and so
shall you, sir, before you're a quarter older, sir."
And Signor Billsmethi slapped Mr. Augustus Cooper
on the back, as if he had known him a dozen years, —
so friendly; — and Mr. Cooper bowed to the young lady,
and the young lady courtesied to him, and Signor Bill-
smethi said they were as handsome a pair as ever he'd
wish to see; upon which the young lady exclaimed,
" Lor, pa!" and blushed as red as Mr. Cooper himself
— you might have thought they were both standing
under a red lamp at a chemist's shop; and before Mr.
Cooper went away it was settled that he should join the
family circle that very night — taking them just as they
were — no ceremony nor nonsense of that kind — and
learn his positions, in order that he might lose no time,
and be able to come out at the forthcoming ball.
Well; Mr. Augustus Cooper went away to one of the
cheap shoemakers' shops in Holborn, where gentlemen's
dress-pumps are seven-and-sixpence, and men's strong
walking just nothing at all, and bought a pair of the
regular seven-and-sixpenny, long-quartered town-mades,
Tip; DANCING ACADEMY.
11
in which he astonished himself quite as much as his
mother, and sallied forth to Signor Billsmethi's. There
were four other private pupils in the parlor: two ladies and
two gentlemen. Such nice people ! Not a bit of pride
about them. One of the ladies in particular, who was in
training for a Columbine, was remarkably atfable; and
she and Miss Billsmethi took such an interest in Mr.
Augustus Cooper, and joked and smiled, and looked so
bewitching, that he got quite at home, and learnt his
steps in no time. After the practising was over, Signor
Billsmethi, and Miss Billsmethi, and Master Billsmethi,
and a young lady, and the two ladies, and the two gen-
tlemen, danced a quadrille — none of your slipping and
sliding^ about, but regular warm work, flying into cor-
ners, and diving among chairs, and shooting out at the
door, — something like dancing! Signor Billsmethi in
particular, notwithstanding his having a little fiddle to
play all the time, was out on the landing every figure, and
Master Billsmethi, when everybody else was breathless,
danced a hornpipe, with a cane in his hand, and a cheese-
plate on his head, to the unqualified admiration of the
whole company. Then, Signor Billsmethi insisted as
they were so happy, that they should all stay to supper,
and proposed sending Master Billsmethi for the beer and
spirits, whereupon the two gentlemen swore, " strike 'cm
wulgar if they'd stand that;" and were just going to
quarrel who should pay for it, when Mr. Augustus
Cooper said he would, if they'd have the kindness tc
allow him — and they had the kindness to allow him;
and Master Billsmethi brought the beer in a can, and
fiie rum in a quart-pot. They had a regular night of it;
and Miss Billsmethi squeezed Mr. Augustus Cooper's
hand under the table ; and Mr. Augustus Cooper re-
12
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
turned the squeeze and returned home too, at something
to six o'clock in the morning, when he was put to bed
by main force by the apprentice, after repeatedly express-
ing an uncontrollable desire to pitch his revered parent
out of the second-floor window, and to throttle the ap-
prentice with his own neck-handkerchief.
Weeks had worn on, and the seven-and-sixpenny town-
inades had nearly worn out, when the night arrived for
the grand dress-ball at which the whole of the five-and-
seventy pupils were to meet together, for the first time
that season, and to take out some portion of their re-
spective four-and-sixpences in lamp-oil and fiddlers. Mr.
Augustus Cooper had ordered a new coat for the occa-
sion — a two-pound-tenner from Turnstile. It was his
first appearance in public; and, after a grand Sicilian
shawl-dance by fourteen young ladies in character, he
was to open the quadrille department with Miss Bill-
smethi herself, with whom he had become quite intimate
since his first introduction. It was a night! Everything
was admirably arranged. The sandwich-boy took the
hats and bonnets at the street-door ; there was a tura-np
bedstead in the back parlor, on which Miss Billsmethi
made tea and coffee for such of the gentlemen as chose
to pay for it, and such of the ladies as the gentlemen
treated ; red port-wine negus and lemonade were handed
round at eighteen-pence a head ; and in pursuance of a
previous engagement with the public-house at the cornet
of the street, an extra pot-boy was laid on for the occa-
sion. In short, nothing could exceed the arrangements,
except the company. Such ladies! Such pink silk
stockings ! Such artificial flowers! Such a number of
cabs ! No sooner had one cab set down a couple of ladies,
than another cab drove up and set down another couple of
THE DANCING ACADEMY.
13
ladies, and they all knew : not only one another, but the
majority of the gentlemen into the bargain, which made
it all as pleasant and lively as could be. Signor Bill-
smethi, in black tights, with a large blue bow in his
buttonhole, introduced the ladies to such of the gentle-
men as were strangers: and the ladies talked away —
and laughed they did — it was delightful to see them.
As to the shawl-dance, it was the most exciting thing
that ever was beheld; there was such a whisking, and
rustling, and fanning, and getting ladies into a tangle
with artificial flowers, and then disentangling them again!
And as to Mr. Augustus Cooper's share in the quadrille,
he got through it admirably. He was missing from his
partner, now and then, certainly, and discovered on such
occasions to be either dancing with laudable perseverance
in another set, or sliding about in perspective, without
any definite object; but generally speaking, they man-
aged to shove him through the figure, until he turned up
in the right place. Be this as it may, when he had
finished, a great many ladies and gentlemen came up
and complimented him very much, and said they had
never seen a beginner do anything like it before; and
Mr. Augustus Cooper was perfectly satisfied with him-
self, and everybody else into the bargain ; and " stood "
considerable quantities of spirits-and-water, negus, and
compounds, for the use and behoof of two or three dozen
very particular friends, selected from the select circle of
five-and-seventy pupils.
Now, whether it was the strength of the compounds,
or the beauty of the ladies, or what not, it did so happen
that Mr. Augustus Cooper encouraged, rather than re-
pelled, the very flattering attentions of a young lady in
brown gauze over white calico who had appeared partic-
14
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
ularly struck with him from the first; and when the en-
couragements had been prolonged for some time, Miss
Billsmethi betrayed her spite and jealousy thereat by
calling the young lady in brown gauze a " creeter,"
which induced the young lady in brown gauze to retort,
in certain sentences containing a taunt founded on the
payment of four-and-sixpence a quarter, which reference
Mr. Augustus Cooper, being then and there in a state of
considerable bewilderment, expressed his entire concur-
rence in. Miss Billsmethi, thus renounced, forthwith
began screaming in the loudest key of her voice, at the
rate of fourteen screams a minute; and being unsuccess-
ful, in an onslaught on the eyes and face, first of the.lady
in gauze and then of Mr. Augustus Cooper, called dis-
tractedly on the other three-and-seventy pupils to furnish
her with oxalic acid for her own private drinking; and,
the call not being honored, made another rush at Mr.
Cooper, and then had her stay-lace cut, and was carried
off to bed. Mr. Augustus Cooper, not being remarkable
for quickness of apprehension, was at a loss to under-
stand what all this meant, until Signor Billsmethi ex-
plained it in a most satisfactory manner, by stating to
the pupils that Mr. Augustus Cooper had made and
confirmed divers promises of marriage to his daughtei
on divers occasions, and had now basely deserted her;
on which, the indignation of the pupils became universal
and as several chivalrous gentlemen inquired rathei
pressingly of Mr. Augustus Cooper, whether he required
anything for his own use, or, in other words, whether he
■' wanted anything for himself," he deemed it prudent to
make a precipitate retreat. And the upshot of the
matter was, that a lawyer's letter came next day, and an
notion was commenced next week ; and that Mr. Augus-
SHABBY-GENTEEL PEOPLE.
15
tuB Cooper, after walking twice to the Serpentine for the
purpose of drowning himself, and coming twice back
without doing it, made a confidante of his mother, who
compromised the matter with twenty pounds from the
till: which made twenty pounds four shillings and six-
pence paid to Signor Billsmethi, exclusive of treats and
pumps. And Mr. Augustus Cooper went back and lived
with his mother, and there he lives to this day; and as
he has lost his ambition for society, and never goes into
the world, he will never see this account of himself, and
will never be any the wiser.
CHAPTER X.
shabby-genteel people.
There are certain descriptions of people who, oddly
enough, appear to appertain exclusively to the metropolis.
You meet them, every day, in the streets of London, but
no one ever encounters them elsewhere ; they seem indig-
enous to the soil, and to belong as exclusively to London
as its own smoke, or the dingy bricks and mortar. We
could illustrate the remark by a variety of examples,
but, in our present sketch, we will only advert to one
class as a specimen — that class which is so aptly and
expressively designated as " shabby-genteel."
Now, shabby people, God knows, may be found any-
where, and genteel people are not articles of greater
scarcity out of London than in it; but this compound
of the two — this shabby-gentility — is as purely local
16
SKETCHES IiV HOZ.
as the statue at Charing Cross, or the pump at Aldgate.
It is worthy of remark, too, that only men are shabby-
genteel; a woman is always either dirty and slovenly in
the extreme, or neat and respectable however poverty-
stricken in appearance. A very poor man, "who has
seen better days," as the phrase goes, is a strange com-
pound of dirty slovenliness and wretched attempts at
faded smartness. i
We will endeavoi to explain our conception of the
term which forms the title of this paper. If you meet
a man, lounging up Drury Lane, or leaning with his
back against a post in Long Acre, with his hands in the
pockets of a pair of drab trousers plentifully besprinkled
with grease-spots : the trousers made very full over the
boots, and ornamented with two cords down the outside
of each leg — wearing, also, what has been a brown coat
with bright buttons, and a hat very much pinched up at
the sides, cocked over his right eye — don't pity him.
He is not shabby-genteel. The " harmonic meetings " at
some fourth-rate public-house, or the purlieus of a private
theatre, are his chosen haunts; he entertains a rooted
antipathy to any kind of work, and is on familiar terms
with several pantomime men at the large houses. But,
if you see hurrying along a by-street, keeping as close
as he can to the area-railings, a man of about forty or
fifty, clad in an old rusty suit of threadbare black cloth
which shines with constant wear as if it had been bees-
waxed — the trousers tightly strapped down, partly for
the look of the thing and partly to keep his old shoes
from slipping off at the heels, — if you observe, too, that
his yellowish-white neckerchief is carefully pinned up,
to conceal the tattered garment underneath, and that his
hands are encased in the remnants of an old pair of
SHABBY-GENTEEL PEOPLE.
17
beaver gloves, you may set him down as a shabby-gen-
teel man. A glance at that depressed face, and timorous
air of conscious poverty, will make your heart ache —
always supposing that you are neither a philosopher nor
a political economist.
We were once haunted by a shabby-genteel man ; he
was bodily present to our senses all day, and he was in
our mind's eye all night. The man of whom Sir Walter
Scott speaks in his Demonology, did not suffer half the
persecution from his imaginary gentleman-usher in black
velvet, that we sustained from our friend in quondam
black cloth. He first attracted our notice by sitting
opposite to us in the reading-room of the British Mu-
seum; and what made the man more remarkable was,
that he always had before him a couple of shabby-gen-
teel books — two old dogs-eared folios, in mouldy worm-
eaten covers, which had once been smart. He was in
his chair, every morning, just as the clock struck ten ;
he was always the last to leave the room in the after-
noon; and when he did, he quitted it with the air of a
man who knew not where else to go, for warmth and
quiet. There he used to sit all day, as close to the table
as possible, in order to conceal the lack of buttons on
his coat: with his old hat carefully deposited at his feet,
where he evidently flattered himself it escaped observa-
tion.
About two o'clock, you would see him munching a
French roll or a penny loaf; not taking it boldly out of
his pocket at once, like a man who knew he was only
making a lunch ; but breaking off little bits in his pocket,
and eating them by stealth. He knew too well it was
Ms dinner.
When we first <aw this poor object, we thought it
t JI A. 2
18
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
quite impossible that his attire could ever become worse.
We even went so far, as to speculate on the possibility
of his shortly appearing in a decent second-hand suit.
We knew nothing about the matter ; he grew more and
more shabby-genteel every day. The buttons dropped
off his waistcoat one by one ; then, he buttoned his coat;
and when one side of his coat was reduced to the same
condition as the waistcoat, he buttoned it over on the other
side. He looked somewhat better at the beginning of
the week than at the conclusion, because the neckerchief,
though yellow, was not quite so dingy ; and, in the midst
of all this wretchedness, he never appeared without
gloves and straps. He remained in this state for a week
or two. At length, one of the buttons on the back of
the coat fell off", and then the man himself disappeared,
and we thought he was dead.
We were sitting at the same table about a week after
his disappearance, and as our eyes rested on his vacant
chair, we insensibly fell into a train of meditation on the
subject of his retirement from public life. We were
wondering whether he had hung himself, or thrown him-
self off a bridge — whether he really was dead or had
only been arrested — when our conjectures were sud-
denly set at rest by the entry of the man himself. He
had undergone some strange metamorphosis, and walked
up the centre of the room with an air which showed
he was fully conscious of the improvement in his appear-
ance. It was very odd. His clothes were a fine, deep,
glossy black ; and yet they looked like the same suit;
nay, there were the very darns with which old acquaint-
ance had made us familiar. The hat, too — nobody
could mistake the shape of that hat, with its high crown
gradually increasing in circumference towards the top.
SHABBY-GENTEEL PEOPLE.
19
Long service had imparted to it a reddish-brown tint;
but, now, it was as black as the coat. The truth flashed
suddenly upon us — they had been " revived." It is a
deceitful liquid that black and blue reviver; we have
watched its effects on many a shabby-genteel man. It
betrays its victims into a temporary assumption of im-
portance: possibly into the purchase of a new pair of
gloves, or a cheap stock, or some other trifling article of
dress. It elevates their spirits for a week, only to de-
press them, if possible, below their original level. It was
so in this case; the transient dignity of the unhappy
man decreased, in exact proportion as the " reviver"
wore off. The knees of the unmentionables, and the
elbows of the coat, and the seams generally, soon began
to get alarmingly white. The hat was once more depos-
ited under the table, and its owner crept into his seat as
quietly as ever.
There was a week of incessant small rain and mist.
At its expiration the " reviver " had entirely vanished,
and the shabby-genteel man never afterwards attempted
to effect any improvement in his outward appearance.
It would be difficult to name any particular part of
town as the principal resort of shabby-genteel men.
We have met a great many persons of this description in
the neighborhood of the inns of court. They may be
met with, in Holborn, between eight and ten any morn-
ing; and whoever has the curiosity to enter the Insolvent
Debtors' Court will observe, both among spectators and
practitioners, a great variety of them. We never went
on 'Change, by any chance, without seeing some shabby-
genteel men, and we have often wondered what earthly
business they can have there. They will sit there, for
hours, leaning on great, dropsical, mildewed umbrellas, or
20
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
eating Abernethy biscuits. Nobody speaks to them, nor
they to any one. On consideration, we remember to have
occasionally seen two shabby-genteel men conversing to-
gether on 'Change, but our experience assures us that
this is an uncommon circumstance, occasioned by the
offer of a pinch of snuff, or some such civility.
It would be a task of equal difficulty, either to assign
any particular spot for the residence of these beings, or
to endeavor to enumerate their general occupations.
We were never engaged in business with more than one
shabby-genteel man; and he was a drunken engraver,
and lived in a damp back-parlor in a new row of houses
at Camden Town, half street, half brick-field, somewhere
near the canal. A shabby-genteel man may have no oc-
cupation, or he may be a corn agent, or a coal agent, or a
wine agent, or a collector of debts, or a broker's assist-
ant, or a broken-down attorney. He may be a clerk of
the lowest description, or a contributor to the press of
the same grade. Whether our readers have noticed
these men, in their walks, as often as we have, we know
not; this we know — that the miserably poor man (no
matter whether he owes his distresses to his own con-
duct, or that of others) who feels his poverty and vainly
strives to conceal it, is one of the most pitiable objects in
human nature. Such objects, with few exceptions, are
shabby-genteel people.
MAKING A NIGHT OF IT
21
CHAPTER XI.
making a night of it.
Damon and Pythias were undoubtedly very good
fellows in their way: the former for his extreme readi-
ness to put in special bail for a friend: and the latter for
a certain trump-like punctuality in turning up just in the
veiy nick of time, scarcely less remarkable. Many
points in their character have, however, grown obsolete.
Damons are rather hard to find, in these days of impris-
onment for debt (except the sham ones, and they cost
half-a-crown) ; and, as to the Pythiases, the few that
have existed in these degenerate times, have had an
unfortunate knack of making themselves scarce, at the
very moment when their appearance would have been
strictly classical. If the actions of these heroes, how-
ever, can find no parallel in modern times, their friend-
ship can. We have Damon and Pythias on the one
hand. We have Potter and Smithers on the other;
and, lest the two last-mentioned names should never
have reached the ears of our unenlightened readers, we
can do no better than make them acquainted with the
owners thereof.
Mr. Thomas Potter, then, was a clerk in the city, and
Mr. Robert Smithers was a ditto in the same ; their in-
comes were limited, but their friendship was unbounded.
They lived in the same street, walked into town every
morning at the same hour, dined at the same slap-bang
•every day, and revelled in each other's company every
22
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
night. They were knit together by the closest ties of
intimacy and friendship, or, as Mr. Thomas Potter touch-
ingly observed, they " were thick-and-thin pals, and noth-
ing but it." There was a spice of romance in Mr.
Smithers's disposition, a ray of poetry, a gleam of misery,
a sort of consciousness of he didn't exactly know what,
coming across him he didn't precisely know why —
which stood out in fine relief against the off-hand,
dashing, amateur-pickpocket-sort-of-manner, which dis-
tinguished Mr. Potter in an eminent degree.
The peculiarity of their respective dispositions, ex-
tended itself to their individual costume. Mr. Smithers
generally appeared in public in a surtout and shoes, with
a narrow black neckerchief and a brown hat, very much
turned up at the sides — peculiarities which Mr. Potter
wholly eschewed, for it was his ambition to do something
in the celebrated " kiddy " or stage-coach way, and he
had even gone so far as to invest capital in the purchase
of a rough blue coat with wooden buttons, made upon
the fireman's principle, in which, with the addition of a
low-crowned, flower-pot-saucer-shaped hat, he had created
no inconsiderable sensation at the Albion in Little Russell
Street, and divers other places of public and fashionable
resort.
Mr. Potter and Mr. Smithers had mutually agreed
that, on the receipt of their quarter's salary, they would
jointly and in company "spend the evening" — an evi-
dent misnomer — the spending applying, as everybody
knows, not to the evening itself but to all the money the
individual may chance to be possessed of, on the occasion
to which reference is made; and they had likewise
agreed that, on the evening aforesaid, they would " make
ft night of it" — an expressive term, implying the bor-
MAKING A NIGHT OF IT.
23
rowing of several hours from to-morrow morning, adding
them to the night before, and manufacturing a compound
night of the whole.
The quarter-day arrived at last — we say at last, be-
cause quarter-days are as eccentric as comets: moving
wonderfully quick when you have a good deal to pay,
and marvellously slow when you have a little to receive.
Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. Robert Smithers met by
appointment to begin the evening with a dinner; and a
nice, snug, comfortable dinner they had, consisting of a
little procession of four chops and four kidneys, following
each other, supported on either side by a pot of the real
draught stout, and attended by divers cushions of bread,
and wedges of cheese.
When the cloth was removed, Mr. Thomas Potter or-
dered the waiter to bring in two goes of his best Scotch
whiskey, with warm water and sugar, and a couple of his
" very mildest" Havannahs, which the waiter did. Mr.
Thomas Potter mixed his grog, and lighted his cigar;
Mr. Robert Smithers did the same; and then, Mr.
Thomas Potter jocularly proposed as the first toast,
" the abolition of all offices whatever" (not sinecures,
but counting-houses), which was immediately drunk by
Mr. Robert Smithers with enthusiastic applause. So
they went on, talking politics, puffing cigars and sip-
[ling whiskey-and-water, until the " goes " — most ap-
propriately so called — were both gone, which Mr.
Robert Smithers perceiving, immediately ordered in two
more goes of the best Scotch whiskey, and two more of
the very mildest Havannahs; and the goes kept coming
in, and the mild Havannahs kept going out, until, what
with the drinking, and lighting, and puffing, and the stale
ashes on the table, and the tallow-grease on the cigars,
24
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Mr. Robert Smithers began to doubt the mildness of the
Havannahs, and to feel very much as if he bad been sit-
ting in a hackney-coach with his back to the horses.
As to Mr. Thomas Potter, he would keep laughing
out loud, and volunteering inarticulate declarations that
he was " all right; " in proof of which he feebly bespoke
the evening paper after the next gentleman, but finding
it a matter of some difficulty to discover any news in its
columns, or to ascertain distinctly whether it had any
columns at all, walked slowly out to look for the moon,
and, after coming back quite pale with looking up at the
sky so long, and attempting to express mirth at Mr.
Robert Smithers having fallen asleep, by various gal-
vanic chuckles, laid his head on his arm, and went to
sleep also. When he awoke again, Mr. Robert Smithers
awoke too, and they both very gravely agreed that it was
extremely unwise to eat so many pickled walnuts with
the chops, as it was a notorious fact that they always
made people queer and sleepy; indeed, if it had not
been for the whiskey and cigars, there was no knowing
what harm they mightn't have done 'em. So they took
some coffee, and after paying the bill, — twelve and two-
pence the dinner, and the odd tenpence for the waiter —
thirteen shillings in all —started out on their expedition
to manufacture a night.
It was just half-past eight, so they thought they
couldn't do better than go at half-price to the slips at
the City Theatre, which they did accordingly. Mr.
Robert Smithers, who had become extremely poetical
after the settlement of the bill, enlivening the walk by
informing Mr. Thomas Potter in confidence that he felt
an inward presentiment of approaching dissolution, and
subsequently embellishing the theatre, by falling asleep,
MAKING A NIGHT OF IT.
with his head and both arms gracefully drooping over
the front of the boxes.
Such was the quiet demeanor of the unassuming
Smithers, and such were the happy effects of Scotch
whiskey and Havannahs on that interesting person !
But Mr. Thomas Potter, whose great aim it was to bo
considered as a " knowing card/' a " fast-goer," and so
forth, conducted himself in a very different manner, and
commenced going very fast indeed — rather too fast at
last, for the patience of the audience to keep pace with
him. On his first entry, he contented himself by ear-
nestly calling upon the gentlemen in the gallery to " flare
up," accompanying the demand with another request,
expressive of his wish that they would instantaneously
" form a union," both which requisitions were responded
to, in the manner most in vogue on such occasions.
" Give that dog a bone I " cried one gentleman in his
shirt-sleeves.
" Where have you been a having half a pint of inter-
mediate beer ? " cried a second. " Tailor ! " screamed
a third. " Barber's clerk ! " shouted a fourth. " Throw
him o—ver !" roared a fifth ; while numerous voices
concurred in desiring Mr. Thomas Potter to " go home,
to his mother!" All these taunts Mr. Thomas Potter re-
ceived with supreme contempt, cocking the low-crowned
hat a little more on one side, whenever any reference
was made to his personal appearance, and, standing up
with his arms a-kimbo, expressing defiance melodra-
matically.
The overture — to which these various sounds had
been an ad libitum accompaniment — concluded, the
second piece began, and Mr. Thomas Potter, emboldened
by impunity, proceeded to behave in a most unprece-
26
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
dented and outrageous manner. First, of all, he imitated
the shake of the principal female singer; then, groaned
at the blue fire ; then, affected to be frightened into con-
vulsions of terror at the appearance of the ghost; and,
lastly, not only made a running commentary, in an au-
dible voice, upon the dialogue on the stage, but actually
awoke Mr. Robert Smithers, who, hearing his compan-
ion making a noise, and having a very indistinct notion
where he was, or what was required of him, immediately,
by way of imitating a good example, set up the most
unearthly, unremitting, and appalling howling that ever
audience heard. It was too much. " Turn them out! "
was the general cry. A noise, as of shuffling of feet,
and men being knocked up with violence against wain-
scoting, was heard : a hurried dialogue of " Come out ? "
— "I won't! " — " You shall!" — "I shan't! " — " Give
me your card, sir ! " — " You're a scoundrel, sir ! " and
so forth succeeded. A round of applause betokened the
approbation of the audience, and Mr. Robert Smithers
and Mr. Thomas Potter found themselves shot with
astonishing swiftness into the road, without having had
the trouble of once putting foot to ground during the
whole progress of their rapid descent.
Mr. Robert Smithers, being constitutionally one of the
slow-goers, and having had quite enough of fast-going, in
the course of his recent expulsion, to last until the quar-
ter-day then next ensuing at the very least, had no sooner
emerged with his companion from the precincts of Milton
Street, than he proceeded to indulge in circuitous refer-
ences to the beauties of sleep, mingled with distant allu-
sions to the propriety of returning to Islington, and testing
the influence of their patent Bramahs over the street-
door locks to which they respectively belonged. Mr,
MAKING A NIGHT OF IT.
27
Thomas Potter, however, was valorous and peremptory.
They had come out to make a night of it: and a night
must be made. So Mr. Robert Smithers, who was three
parts dull, and the other dismal, despairingly assented;
and they wen': into a wine-vaults, to get materials for
assisting them in making a night; where they found a
good many young ladies, and various old gentlemen, and
a plentiful sprinkling of hackney-coachmen and cab-
drivers, all drinking and talking together ; and Mr.
Thomas Potter and Mr. Robert Smithers drank small
glasses of brandy, and large glasses of soda, until they
began to have a very confused idea, either of things in
general, or of anything in particular; and, when they
had done treating themselves they began to treat every-
body else ; and the rest of the entertainment was a con-
fused mixture of heads and heels, black eyes and blue
uniforms, mud and gas-lights, thick doors, and stone
paving.
Then, as standard novelists expressively inform us —
" all was a blank !" and in the morning the blank was
filled up with the words " Station-House," and the
station-house was filled up with Mr. Thomas Potter, Mr.
Robert Smithers, and the major part of their wine-vault
companions of the preceding night, with a comparatively
small portion of clothing of any kind. And it was
disclosed at the Police-office, to the indignation of the
Bench, and the astonishment of the spectators, how one
Robert Smithers, aided and abetted by one Thomas
Potter, had knocked down and beaten, in divers streets,
at different times, five men, four boys, and three women ;
how the said Thomas Potter had feloniously obtained
possession of five door-knockers, two. bell-handles, and a
bonnet; how Robert Smithers, his friend, had sworn, at
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
least forty pounds' worth of oaths, at the rate of five
shillings a-piece; terrified whole streets full of Her
Majesty's subjects with awful shrieks and alarms of fire;
destroyed the uniforms of five policemen; and committed
various other atrocities, too numerous to recapitulate.
And the magistrate, after an appropriate reprimand,
fined Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. Robert Smithers fi ve
shillings each, for being, what the law vulgarly terms,
drunk ; and thirty-four pounds for seventeen assaults
at forty shillings a head, with liberty to speak to the
prosecutors.
The prosecutors were spoken to, and Messrs. Potter
and Smithers lived on credit, for a quarter, as best they
might; and, although the prosecutors expressed their
readiness to be assaulted twice a week, on the same
terms, they have never since been detected in " making
a night of it."
CHAPTER XIL
the prisoners' van.
We were passing the corner of Bow Street, on our
return from a lounging excursion the other afternoon,
when a crowd assembled round the door of the Police-
office attracted our attention. We turned up the street
accordingly. There were thirty or forty people, standing
on the pavement and half across the road ; and a few
stragglers were patiently stationed on the opposite side
of the way — all evidently waiting in expectation of
THE PRISONERS' VAN.
29
some arrival. We waited too, a few minutes, but noth-
ing occurred ; so we turned round to an unshorn sallow-
looking cobbler, who was standing next us with his
hands under the bib of his apron, and put the usual
question of " What's the matter ? " The cobbler eyed
us from head to foot, with superlative contempt, and
laconically replied " Nuffin."
Now, we were perfectly aware that if two men stop in
the street to look at any given object, or even to gaze in
the air, two hundred men will be assembled in no time ;
but, as we knew very well that no crowd of people could
by possibility remain in a street for five minutes without
getting up a little amusement among themselves, unless
they had some absorbing object in view, the natural
inquiry next in order was, " What are all these people
waiting here for ? " — " Her Majesty's carriage," replied
the cobbler. This was still more extraordinary. We
could not imagine what earthly business Her Majesty's
carriage could have at the Public Office, Bow Street.
We were beginning to ruminate on the possible causes
of such an uncommon appearance, when a general ex-
clamation from all the boys in the crowd of '■ Here's the
wan!" caused us to raise our heads, and look up the
street.
The covered vehicle, in which prisoners are conveyed
from the police-offices to the different prisons, was coming
along at full speed. It then occurred to us, for the first
time, that Her Majesty's carriage was merely another
Dame for the prisoner's van, conferred upon it, not otdy
by reason of the superior gentility of the term, but be-
cause the aforesaid van is maintained at Her Majesty's-
expense: having been originally started for the exclusive
sccommodation of ladies and gentlemen under the neees-
30
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
sity of visiting the various houses of call known by the
general denomination of " Her Majesty's Jails."
The van drew up at the office-door, and the people
thronged round the steps, just leaving a little alley for
the prisoners to pass through. Our friend the cobbler,
and the other stragglers, crossed over, and we followed
their example. The driver, and another man who had
been seated by his side in- front of the vehicle, dis-
mounted, and were admitted into the office. The office-
door was closed after them, and the crowd were on the
tiptoe of expectation.
After a few minutes' delay, the door again opened, and
the two first prisoners appeared. They were a couple
of girls, of whom the elder could not be more than six-
teen, and the younger of whom had certainly not attained
her fourteenth year. That they were sisters, was evi-
dent, from the resemblance which still subsisted between
them, though two additional years of depravity had fixed
their brand upon the elder girl's features, as legibly as if
a redhot iron had seared them. They were both gaudily
dressed, the younger one especially ; and, although there
was a strong similarity between them in both respects,
which was rendered the more obvious by their being
handcuffed together, it is impossible to conceive a greater
contrast than the demeanor of the two presented. The
younger girl was weeping bitterly — not for display, or
in the hope of producing effect, but for very shame; her
face was buried in her handkerchief; and her whole
manner was but too expressive of bitter and unavailing
Borrow.
" How long are you for, Emily? " screamed a red-faced
woman in the crowd. " Six weeks and labor," replied
the elder girl with a daunting laugh ; " and that's better
THE PRISONERS' VAN.
than the Btone jug anyhow ; the mill's a deal better than
the Sessions, and here's Bella agoing too for the first
time. Hold up your head, you chicken," she continued,
boisterously tearing the other girl's handkerchief away ;
" Hold up your head, and show 'em your face, I a'n't
jealous, but I'm blessed if I a'n't game!"—"That's
right, old gal," exclaimed a man in a paper cap, who,
in common with the greater part of the crowd, had
been inexpressibly delighted with this little incident. —
" Right!" replied the girl! " ah, to be sure ; what's the
odds, eh ? " — " Come ! In with you," interrupted the
driver. — " Don't you be in a hurry, coachman," replied
the girl, " and recollect I want to be set down in Cold
Bath Fields — large house with a high garden-wall in
front; you can't mistake it. Hallo. Bella, where are
you going to — you'll pull my precious arm off? " This
was addressed to the younger girl, who, in her anxiety
to hide herself in the caravan, had ascended the steps
first, and forgotten the strain upon the handcuff; " Come
down, and let's show you the way." And after jerking
the miserable girl down with a force which made her
stagger on the pavement, she got into the vehicle, and
was followed by her wretched companion.
These two girls had been thrown upon London streets,
their vices and debauchery, by a sordid and rapacious
mother. "What the younger girl was, then, the elder had
been once; and what the elder then was, the younger
must soon become. A melancholy prospect, but how
surely to be realized; a tragic drama, but how often
acted ! Turn to the prisons and police offices of London
— nay, look into the very streets themselves. These
things pass before our eyes, day after day, and hour after
hour — they have become such matters of course, that
89
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
they are utterly disregarded. The progress of these
girls in crime will be as rapid as the flight of a pes-
tilence, resembling it too in its baneful influence and
wide-spread infection. Step by step, how many wretched
females, within the sphere of every man's observation,
have become involved in a career of vice, frightful to
contemplate ; hopeless at its commencement, loathsome
and repulsive in its course ; friendless, forlorn, and un-
pitied, at its miserable conclusion !
There were other prisoners — boys of ten, as hardened
in vice as men of fifty — a houseless vagrant, going joy-
fully to prison as a place of food and shelter, handcuffed
to a man whose prospects were ruined, character lost,
and family rendered destitute, by his first offence. Our
curiosity, however, was satisfied. The first group had
left an impression on our mind we would gladly have
avoided, and would willingly have effaced.
The crowd dispersed; the vehicle rolled away with its
Load of guilt and misfortune ; and we saw no more of the
Prisoners' Van.
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
33
TALES.
CHAPTER I.
the boarding-house. chapter i.
Mrs. Tibbs was, beyond all dispute, the most tidy,
fidgety, thrifty, little personage that ever inhaled the
smoke of London: and the house of Mrs. Tibbs was,
decidedly, the neatest in all Great Coram Street. The
area and the area Steps, and the street-door, and the
street-door steps, and the brass handle, and the door-
plate, and the knocker, and the fan-light, were all as
elean and bright as indefatigable whitewashing, and
hearth-stoning, and scrubbing and rubbing could make
them. The wonder was, that the brass door-plate, with
the interesting inscription " Mrs. Tibbs," had never
caught fire from constant friction, so perseveringly was
it polished. There were meat-safe-looking blinds in the
parlor-windows, blue and gold curtains in the drawing-
room, and spring-roller blinds, as Mrs. Tibbs was wont
in the pride of her heart to boast, " all the way up.""
The bell-lamp in the passage looked as clear as a soap-
bubble; you could see yourself in all the tables, and
French-polish yourself on any one of the chairs. The
banisters were beeswaxed; and the very stair-wires
made your eyes wink, they were so glittering.
Mrs. Tibbs was somewhat short of stature, and Mr-
VOL. II. 3
34
SKETCHES BY liOZ.
Tibbs was by no means a large man. He had moreover,
very short legs, but, by way of indemnification, his face
was peculiarly long. He was to his wife what the 0 is in
90 — he was of some importance with her — he was noth-
ing without her. Mrs. Tibbs was always talking. Mr.
Tibbs rarely spoke ; but, if it were at any time possible
to put in a word, when he should have said nothing at
all, he had that talent. Mrs. Tibbs detested long stories,
and Mr. Tibbs had one, the conclusion of which had
never been heard by his most intimate friends. It
always began, " I recollect when I was in the volun-
teer corps, in eighteen hundred and six," — but, as he
spoke very slowly and softly, a id his better half very
quickly and loudly, he rarely get beyond the introduc-
tory sentence. He was a melancholy specimen of the
story-teller. He was the wandering Jew of Joe Mil-
lerism.
Mr. Tibbs enjoyed a small independence from the
pension-list — about 43/. 15s. 10c/. a year. His father,
mother, and five interesting scions from the same stock
drew a like sum from the revenue of a grateful country,
though for what particular service was never known.
But, as this said independence was not quite sufficient
to furnish two people with all the luxuries of this life, it
had occurred to the busy little spouse of Tibbs, that the
best thing she could do with a legacy of 700/., would be
to take and furnish a tolerable house — somewhere in
that partially explored tract of country which lies be-
tween the British Museum, and a remote village called
Somers' Town — for the reception of boarders. Great
Coram Street was the spot pitched upon. The house
had been furnished accordingly ; two female servants and
a boy engaged; and an advertisement inserted in the
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
35
morning papers, informing the public that " Six individ-
uals would meet with all the comforts of a cheerful
musical home in a select private family, residing within
ten minutes'walk of"—everywhere. Answers out of
number were received, with all sorts of initials; all the
letters of the alphabet seemed to be seized with a sud-
den wish to go out boarding and lodging; voluminous
was the correspondence between Mrs. Tibbs and the ap-
plicants; and most profound was the secrecy observed.
" E." didn't like this, " I." couldn't think of putting up
with that; " I. O. U." didn't think the terms would suit
him; and " G. R." had never slept in a French bed.
The result, however, was, that three gentlemen became
inmates of Mrs. Tibbs's house, on terms which were
"agreeable to all parties." In went the advertisement
again, and a lady with her two daughters, proposed to
increase — not their families, but Mrs. Tibbs's.
" Charming woman, that Mrs. Maplesone ! " said Mrs.
Tibbs, as she and her spouse were sitting by the fire
after breakfast; the gentlemen having gone out on their
several avocations! " Charming woman, indeed ! " re-
peated little Mrs. Tibbs, more by way of soliloquy than
anything else, for she never thought of consulting her
husband. " And the two daughters are delightful. We
must have some fish to-day; they'll join us at dinner for
the first time."
Mr. Tibbs placed the poker at right angles with the
lire shovel, and essayed to speak, but recollected he had
lothing to say.
" The young ladies," con'inued Mrs. T., " have kindly
volunteered to bring their own piano."
Tibbs thought of the volunteer story, but did not ven-
tare it. A bright thought struck him —
36
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" It's very likely — " said he.
" Pray don't lean your head against the paper," inter-
rupted Mrs. Tibbs; " and don't put your feet on the steel
fender; that's worse."
Tibbs took his head from the paper, and his feet from
the fender, and proceeded. " It's very likely one of the
young ladies may set her cap at young Mr. Simpson, and
you know a marriage — "
" A what!" shrieked Mrs. Tibbs. Tibbs modestly re-
peated his former suggestion.
" I beg you won't mention such a thing," said Mrs. T.
" A marriage indeed ! — to rob me of my boarders —
no, not for the world."
Tibbs thought in his own mind that the event was by
no means unlikely; but, as he never argued with bis
wife, he put a stop to the dialogue, by observing it was
" time to go to business." He always went out at ten
o'clock in the morning, and returned at five in the after
noon, with an exceedingly dirty face, and smelling
mouldy. Nobody knew what he was, or where he went;
but Mrs. Tibbs used to say with an air of great impor-
tance that he was engaged in the City.
The Miss Maplesones and their accomplished parent
arrived in the course of the afternoon in a hackney-coach,
and accompanied by a most astonishing number of pack-
ages. Trunks, bonnet-boxes, muff-boxes, and parasols,
guitar-cases, and parcels of all imaginable shapes, done
up in brown paper, and fastened with pins, filled the pas-
sage. Then, there was such a running up and down
with the luggage, such scampering for warm water for
the ladies to wash in, and such a bustle, and confusion,
and heating of servants and curling-irons, as had never
been known in Great Coram Street before. Little Mrs
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
37
Tibbs was quite in her element, bustling about, talking
incessantly, and distributing towels'and soap like a head-
nurse in a hospital. The house was not restored to its
usual state of quiet repose, until the ladies were safely
shut up in their respective bedrooms, engaged in the im-
portant occupation of dressing for dinner.
" Are these gals 'andsome ? " inquired Mr. Simpson of
Mr. Septimus Hicks, another of the boarders, as they were
amusing themselves in the drawing-room, before dinner,
by lolling on sofas and contemplating their pumps.
" Don't know," replied Mr. Septimus Hicks, who was
a tallish, white-faced young man, with spectacles, and a
black ribbon round his neck instead of a neckerchief—
a most interesting person : a poetical walker of the hos-
pitals, and a " very talented young man." He was fond
of " lugging" into conversation, all sorts of quotations
from Don Juan, without fettering himself by the pro-
priety of their application ; in which particular he was
remarkably independent. The other, Mr. Simpson, was
one of those young men, who are in society what walk-
ing gentlemen are on the stage, only infinitely worse
skilled in his vocation than the most indifferent artist,
lie was as empty-headed as the great bell of St. Paul's;
always dressed according to the caricatures published in
the monthly fashions ; and spelt Character with a K.
" I saw a devilish number of parcels in the passage
when I came home," simpered Mr. Simpson.
" Materials for the toilet, no doubt," returned the Don
Juan reader.
"' Much linen, lace, and several pair
Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete,
With other articles of ladies' fair,
To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat.'"
38
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Is that from Milton ? " inquired Mr. Simpson.
" No — from Byron," returned Mr. Hicks, with a look
of contempt. He was quite sure of his author, because
he had never read any other. " Hush! Here come the
gals," and they both commenced talking in a very loud key.
" Mrs. Maplesone and the Miss Maplesones, Mr.
I licks. Mr. Hicks — Mrs. Maplesone and the Miss
Maplesones,"' said Mrs. Tibbs, with a very red face, for
she had been superintending the cooking operations
below stairs, and looked like a wax doll on a sunny day.
" Mr. Simpson, I beg your pardon — Mr. Simpson —
Mrs. Maplesone and the Miss Maplesones" — and vice
versa. The gentlemen immediately began to slide about
with much politeness, and to look as if they wished their
arms had been legs, so little did they know what to do
with them. The ladies smiled, courtesied, and glided into
chairs, and dived for dropped pocket-handkerchiefs ; the
gentlemen leant against two of the curtain-pegs; Mrs.
Tibbs went through an admirable bit of serious panto-
mime with a servant who had come up to ask some
question about the fish-sauce; and then the two young
ladies looked at each other; and everybody else appeared
to discover something very attractive in the pattern of
the fender.
"Julia, my love," said Mrs. Maplesone to her young-
est daughter, in a tone loud enough for the remainder of
the company to hear, — "Julia."
" Yes, Ma."
" Don't stoop." — This was said for the purpose of
directing general attention to Miss Julia's figure, which
was undeniable. Everybody looked at her, accordingly,
and there was another pause.
" We had the most uncivil hackney-coachman to-day
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
39
you can imagine," said Mrs. Maplesone to Mrs. Tibbs, in
a confidential tone.
" Dear me !" replied the hostess, with an air of great
commiseration. She couldn't say more, for the servant
again appeared at the door, and commenced telegraphing
most earnestly to her " Missis."
" I think hackney-coachmen generally are uncivil,"
said Mr. Hicks in his most insinuating tone.
" Positively I think they are," replied Mrs. Maplesone,
as if the idea had never struck her before.
" And cabmen, too," said Mr. Simpson. This remark
was a failure, for no one intimated, by word or sign, the
slightest knowledge of the manners and customs of cab-
men.
" Robinson, what do you want ? " said Mrs. Tibbs to
the servant, who, by way of making ber presence known
to her mistress, had been giving sundry hems and sniffs
outside the door, during the preceding five minutes.
" Please, ma'am, master wants his clean things," replied
the servant, taken off her guard. The two young men
turned their faces to the window, and "went off" like a
couple of bottles of ginger beer; the ladies put their'
handkerchiefs to their mouths ; and little Mrs. Tibbs
bustled out of the room to give Tibbs his clean linen, —
and the servant warning.
Mr. Calton, the remaining boarder, shortly afterwards
made his appearance, and proved a surprising promoter
of the conversation. Mr. Calton was a superannuated beau
— an old boy. He used to say of himself that although
his features were not regularly handsome, they were
striking. They certainly were. It was impossible tc
look at his face without being reminded of a chubby
street-door knocker, half-lion half-monkey ; and the com-
40
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
parison might be extended to his whole character and
conversation. He had stood still, while everything else
had been moving. He never originated a conversation,
or started an idea; but if any commonplace topic were
broached, or, to pursue the comparison, if anybody lifted
Mm up, he would hammer away with surprising rapidity.
He had the tic-doloreux occasionally, and then he might
be said to be muffled, because he did not make quite as
much noise as at other times, when he would go on pros-
ing, rat-tat-tat the same thing over and over again. He
had never been married ; but he was still on the look-out
for a wife with money. He had a life-interest worth
about 3001. a year — he was exceedingly vain, and inor-
dinately selfish. He had acquired the reputation of being
the very pink of politeness, and he walked round the
park, and up Regent Street, every day.
This respectable personage had made up his mind to
render himself exceedingly agreeable to Mrs. Maplesone
— indeed, the desire of being as amiable as possible ex-
tended itself to the whole party; Mrs. Tibbs having
considered it an admirable little bit of management to
represent to the gentlemen that she had some reason to
believe the ladies were fortunes, and to hint to the ladies,
that all the gentlemen were " eligible." A little flirta-
tion, she thought, might keep her house full, without
leading to any other result.
Mrs. Maplesone was an enterprising widow of abotn
fifty: shrewd, scheming, and good-looking. She was
amiably anxious on behalf of her daughters; in proof
whereof she used to remark, that she would have no
objection to marry again, if it would benefit her dear
girls — she could have no other motive. The " dear
girls " themselves were not at all insensible to the merits
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
41
of " a good establishment." One of them was twenty-
five ; the other, three years younger. They had been at
different watering-places, for four seasons; they had
gambled at libraries, read books in balconies, sold at
fancy fairs, danced at assemblies, talked sentiment — in
ai.ort, they had done all that industrious girls could do —
hut, as yet, to no purpose.
" What a magnificent dresser Mr. Simpson is!" whis-
pered Matilda Maplesone to her sister Julia.
" Splendid ! " returned the youngest. The magnificent
individual alluded to wore a maroon-colored dress-coat,
with a velvet collar and cuffs of the same tint — very
like that which usually invests the form of the distin-
guished unknown who condescends to play the " swell"
in the pantomime at "Richardson's Show."
" What whiskers !" said Miss Julia.
" Charming!" responded her sister; " and what hair !"
His hair was like a wig, and distinguished by that insin-
uating wave which graces the shining locks of those
chefs-d'oeuvre of art Surmounting the waxen images in
Bartellot's window, in Regent Street; his whiskers meet-
ing beneath his chin, seemed strings wherewith to tie it
on, ere science had rendered them unnecessary by her
patent invisible springs.
" Dinner's on the table, ma'am, if you please," said the
boy, who now appeared for the first time, in a revived
Hack coat of his master's. %
" Oh! Mr. Calton, will you lead Mrs. Maplesone ? —
Thank you." Mr. Simpson offered his arm to Miss
Julia; Mr. Septimus Hicks escorted the lovely Matilda;
and the procession proceeded to the dining-room. Mr.
Tibbs was introduced, and Mr. Tibbs bobbed up and
down to the three ladies like a figure in a Dutch clock, 1
42
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
with a powerful spring in the middle of his body, and
then dived rapidly into his seat at the bottom of the
table, delighted to screen himself behind a soup-tureen,
which he could just see over, and that was all. The
boarders were seated, a lady and gentleman alternately,
like the layers of bread and meat in a plate of sand-
wiches ; and then Mrs. Tibbs directed James to take off
the covers. Salmon, lobster-sauce, giblet-soup, and the
usual accompaniments were discovered: potatoes like
petrifactions, and bits of toasted bread, the shape and
size of blank dice.
" Soup for Mrs. Maplesone, my dear," said the bustling
Mrs. Tibbs. She always called her husband "my dear"
before company. Tibbs, who had been eating his bread,
and calculating how long it would be before he should
get any fish, helped the soup in a hurry, made a small
island on the tablecloth, and put his glass upon it, to hide
it from his wife.
" Miss Julia, shall I assist you to some fish ? "
" If you please — very little f- oh ! plenty, thank
you " (a bit about the size of a walnut put upon the
plate).
" Julia is a very little eater," said Mrs. Maplesone to
Mr. Calton.
The knocker gave a single rap. He was busy eating
the fish with his eyes : so he only ejaculated, " Ah !"
" My dear," said Mrs. Tibbs to her spouse after every
one else had been helped, " What do you take ? " The
inquiry was accompanied with a look intimating that he
mustn't say fish, because there was not much left. Tibbs
thought the frown referred to the island on the table-
cloth; he therefore coolly replied, " Why — I'll take a
little — fish, I think,"
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
49
" Did you say fish, my dear ? " (another frown.)
" Yes, dear," replied the villain, with an expression of
acute hunger depicted in his countenance. The tears
almost started to Mrs. Tibbs's eyes as she helped her
" wretch of a husband," as she inwardly called him, to
the last eatable bit of salmon on the dish.
" James, take this to your master, and take away your
master's knife." This was deliberate revenge, as Tibbs
never could eat fish without one. He was, however, con-
Btrained to chase small particles of salmon round and
round his plate with a piece of bread and a fork, the
number of successful attempts being about one in seven-
teen.
" Take away, James," said Mrs. Tibbs, as Tibbs swal-
lowed the fourth mouthful — and away went the plates
like lightning.
" I'll take a bit of bread, James," said the poor " master
of the house," niore hungry than ever.
"Never mind your master now, James," said Mrs.
Tibbs, " see about th^meat." This was conveyed in the
tone in which ladies usually give admonitions to servants
in company, that is to say, a low one ; but which, like a
stage whisper, from its peculiar emphasis, is most dis-
tinctly heard by everybody present.
A pause ensued, before the table was replenished — a
sort of parenthesis in which Mr. Simpson, Mr. Calton,
and Mr. Hicks, produced respectfully a bottle of sauterne,
bucellas, and sherry, and took wine with everybody —
except Tibbs. No one ever thought of him.
Between the fish and an intimated sirloin, there was a
prolonged interval.
Here was an opportunity for Mr. Hicks. He could
not resist the singularly appropriate quotation —
44
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
"But beef is rare within these oxless isles;
Goats' flesh there is» no doubt, and kid, and mutton^
And, when a holiday upon them smiles,
A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on."
" Very ungentlemanly behavior," thought little Mrs.
Tibbs, " to talk in that way."
" Ah," said Mr. Calton, filling his glass. " Tom Moore
is my poet."
" And mine," said Mrs. Maplesone.
"And mine," said Miss Julia.
" And mine," added Mr. Simpson.
" Look at his compositions," resumed the knocker.
" To be sure," said Simpson, with confidence.
" Look at Don Juan," replied Mr. Septimus Hicks.
" Julia's letter," suggested Miss Matilda.
" Can anything be grander than the Fire Worship-
pers ? " inquired Miss Julia.
" To be sure," said Simpson.
" Or Paradise and the Peri," said the old beau.
" Yes ; or Paradise and the Pec^," repeated Simpson,
who thought he was getting through it capitally.
" It's all very well," replied Mr. Septimus Hicks, who,
as we have before hinted, never had read anything but
Don Juan. . " Where will you find anything finer than
the description of the siege, at the commencement of the
seventh canto ? "
" Talking of a siege," said Tibbs, with a mouthful of
bread —" when I was in the volunteer corps, in eighteen
hundred and six, our commanding officer was Sir Charles
Rampart ; and one day, when we were exercising on the
ground on which the London University now stands,
he says, says he, Tibbs (calling me from the ranks)
Tibbs — "
THE BOARDING—HOUSE.
45
" Tell your master, James," interrupted Mrs. Tibbs, in
an awfully distinct tone, " tell your master if he won't
carve those fowls, to send them to me." The discomfited
volunteer instantly set to work, and carved the fowls
almost as expeditiously as his wife operated on the haunch
of mutton. Whether he ever finished the story is not
known ; but, if he did, nobody heard it.
As the ice was now broken, and the new inmates more
at home, every member of the company felt more at
ease. Tibbs himself most certainly did, because he went
to sleep immediately after dinner. Mr. Hicks and the
ladies discoursed most eloquently about poetry, and the
theatres, and Lord Chesterfield's Letters ; and Mr. Cal-
ton followed up what everybody said, with continuous
double knocks. Mrs. Tibbs highly approved of every
observation that fell from Mrs. Maplesone ; and as Mr.
Simpson sat with a smile upon his face and said " Yes,"
or l< Certainly," at intervals of about four minutes each,
he received full credit for understanding what was going
forward. The gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the
drawing-room very shortly after they had left the dining-
parlor. Mrs. Maplesone and Mr. Calton played cribbage,
and the " young people " amused themselves with music
and conversation. The Miss Maplesones sang the most
fascinating duets, and accompanied themselves on guitars,
ornamented with bits of ethereal blue ribbon. Mr. Simp-
son put on a pink waistcoat, and said he was in raptures;
and Mr. Hicks felt in the seventh heaven of poetry, or
the seventh canto of Don Juan — it was the same thing
to him. Mrs. Tibbs was quite charmed with the new
comers; and Mr. Tibbs spent the evening in his usual
ffay — he went to sleep, and woke up, and went to sleep
*gam, and woke at supper-time.
46
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
We are not about to adopt the license of novel-writers,
and to let " years roll on ;" but we will take the liberty
of requesting the reader to suppose that six months have
elapsed, since the dinner we have described, and that
Mrs. Tibbs's boarders have, during that period, sang,
and danced, and gone to theatres and exhibitions, to-
gether, as ladies and gentlemen, wherever they board,
often do. And we will beg them, the period we have
mentioned having elapsed, to imagine farther, that Mr.
Septimus Hicks received, in his own bedroom (a front
attic), at an early hour one morning, a note from Mr.
Calton, requesting the favor of seeing him, as soon as
convenient to himself, in his (Calton's) dressing-room
on the second floor back.
" Tell Mr. Calton I'll come down directly," said Mr.
Septimus to the boy. " Stop — is Mr. Calton unwell ? "
inquired this excited walker of hospitals, as he put on a
bed-furniture-looking dressing-gown-
" Not as I knows on, sir," replied the boy. " Please,
sir, he looked rather rum, as it might be."
" Ah, that's no proof of his being ill," returned Hicks,
unconsciously. " Very well: I'll be down directly."
Down-stairs ran the boy with the message, and down
went the excited Hicks himself, almost as soon as the
message was delivered. " Tap, tap." " Come in." —•
Door opens, and discovers Mr. Calton sitting in an easy-
chair. Mutual shakes of the hand exchanged, and Mr.
Septimus Hicks motioned to a seat. A short pause.
Mr. Hicks coughed, and Mr. Calton took a pinch of snuff.
It was one of those interviews where neither party knows
what to say. Mr. Septimus Hicks broke silence.
" I received a note —" he said, very tremulously in
* a voice like a Punch with a cold.
THE BOARDING-HOUSE. ^ 47
" Yes," returned the other, " you did."
« Exactly."
" Yes."
Now, although this dialogue must have been satis-
factory, both gentlemen felt there was something more
important to be said ; therefore they did as most men in
such a situation would have done — they looked at the
table with a determined aspect. The conversation had
been opened, however, and Mr. Calton had made up his
mind to continue it, with a regular double knock. He
always spoke very pompously.
" Hicks," said he, " I have sent for you, in consequence
of certain arrangements which are pending in this house,
connected with a marriage."
" With a marriage! " gasped Hicks, compared with
whose expression of countenance, Hamlet's, when he
sees his father's ghost, is pleasing and composed.
" With a marriage," returned the knocker. " I have
sent for you to prove the great confidence I can repose
in you."
" And will you betray me ?" eagerly inquired Hicks,
w ho in his alarm had even forgotten to quote.
" 1 betray you ! Won't you betray me ? "
" Never: no one shall know, to my dying day, that
you had a hand in the business," responded the agitated
Hicks, with an inflamed countenance, and his hair stand-
ing on end as if he were on the stool of an electrifying
machine in full operation.
•' People must know that, some time or other — within
a year, I imagine," said Mr. Calton, with an air of great
self-complacency, " we may have a family."
" We ! — That won't affect you, surely ? "
" The devil it won't! "
48
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
* No! how can it ? " said the bewildered Hicks. Cal-
ton was too much inwrapped in the contemplation of his
happiness to see the equivoque between Hicks and him-
self; and threw himself back in his chair. " Oh, Ma-
tilda ! " sighed the antique beau, in a lackadaisical
voice, and applying his right hand a little to the left
of the fourth button of his waistcoat, counting from the
bottom. " Oh, Matilda ! "
" What Matilda ? * inquired Hicks, starting up.
" Matilda Maplesone," responded the other, doing the
same.
" I marry her to-morrow morning," said Hicks.
" It's false," rejoined his companion: " I marry
her!"
" You marry her!"
" I marry her! "
" You marry Matilda Maplesone ? "
" Matilda Maplesone."
" Miss Maplesone marry you ?"
" Miss Maplesone ! No: Mrs. Maplesone."
" Good Heaven ! " said Hicks, falling into his chair:
" You marry the mother, and I the daughter ! "
" Most extraordinary circumstance !" replied Mr. Cal-
ton, " and rather inconvenient too; for the fact is, that
owing to Matilda's wishing to keep her intention secret
from her daughters until the ceremony had taken place,
she doesn't like applying to any of her friends to give
her away. I entertain an objection to making the affair
known to my acquaintance just now; and the conse-
quence is, that I sent to you, to know whether you'd
oblige me by acting as father."
" I should have been most happy, I assure you," said
Hicks, in a tone of condolence ; " but, you see, I shall be
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
49
acting as bridegroom. One character is frequently a con-
sequence of the other; but it is not usual to act m both at
the same time. There's Simpson — I have no doubt
he'll do it for you."
" I don't like to ask him," replied Calton; " he's such
a donkey."
Mr. Septimus Hicks looked up at the ceiling, and down
at the floor ; at last an idea struck him. " Let the man
of the house, Tibbs, be the father," he suggested; and
then he quoted, as peculiarly applicable to Tibbs and the
pair —
" Oh Powers of Heaven! what dark eyes meets she there?
'Tis — 'tis her father's— fixed upon the pair."
" The idea has struck me already," said Mr. Calton"
" but, you see, Matilda, for what reason I know not, is
very anxious that Mrs. Tibbs should know nothing about
it, till it's all over. It's a natural delicacy, after all, you
know."
" He's the best-natured little man in existence, if you
manage him properly," said Mr. Septimus Hicks. " Tell
him not to mention it to his wife, and assure him she
won't mind it, and he'll do it directly. My marriage
is to be a secret one, on account of the mother and my
father : therefore he must be enjoined to secrecy."
A small double knock, like a presumptuous single one,
was that instant heard at the street-door. It was Tibbs;
it could be no one else; for no one else occupied five
minutes in rubbing his shoes. He had been out to pay
the baker's bill.
" Mr. Tibbs," called Mr. Calton in a very bland tone,
looking over the banisters.
" Sir! " replied he of the dirty face.
VOL. II 4
50
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Will you have the kindness to step up-stairs for a
moment ? "
" Certainly, sir," said Tibbs, delighted to be taken
notice of. The bedroom-door was carefully closed, and
Tibbs, having put his hat on the floor (as most timid
men do), and been accommodated with a seat, looked as
astounded as if he were suddenly summoned before the
familiars of the Inquisition.
"A rather unpleasant occurrence, Mr. Tibbs," said
Calton, in a very portentous manner, "obliges me to
consult you, and to beg you will not communicate what
I am about to say, to your wife."
Tibbs acquiesced, wondering in his own mind what the
deuce the other could have done, and imagining that at
least he must have broken the best decanters.
Mr. Calton resumed; "I am placed, Mr. Tibbs, in
rather an unpleasant situation."
Tibbs looked at Mr. Septimus Hicks, as if he thought
Mr. H.'s being in the immediate vicinity of his fellow-
boarder might constitute the unpleasantness of his situa
tion; but as he did not exactly know what to say, he
merely ejaculated the monosyllable " Lor ! "
" Now," continued the knocker, " let me beg you will
exhibit no manifestations of surprise, which may be over-
heard by the domestics, when I tell you — command
your feelings of astonishment — that two inmates of this
house intend to be married to-morrow morning." And
he drew back his chair, several feet, to perceive the effect
of the unlooked-for announcement.
If Tibbs had rushed from the room, staggered down-
stairs, and fainted in the passage — if he had instan-
taneously jumped out of the window into the mews
behind the house, in an agony of surprise — his behavior
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
51
would have been much less inexplicable to Mr. Calton
than it was, when he put his hands into his inexpressible-
pockets, and said with a half-chuckle, " Just so."
" You are not surprised, Mr. Tibbs ? " inquired Mr.
Calton.
" Bless you, no, sir," returned Tibbs ; " after all it's
very natural. When two young people get together,
you know — "
" Certainly, certainly," said Calton, with an indescrib-
able air of self-satisfaction.
" You don't think it's at all an out-of-the-way affair
then ? " asked Mr. Septimus Hicks, who had watched the
countenance of Tibbs in mute astonishment.
" No, sir," replied Tibbs ; " I was just the same at his
age." He actually smiled when he said this.
" How devilish well I must carry my years !" thought
the delighted old beau, knowing he was at least ten years
older than Tibbs at that moment.
" Well, then, to come to the point at once," he con tin-
ued, " I have to ask you whether you will object to act
as father on the occasion ? "
" Certainly not," replied Tibbs ; still without evincing
an atom of surprise.
" You will not ? "
" Decidedly not," reiterated Tibbs, still as calm as a
pot of porter with the head off.
Mr. Calton seized the band of the petticoat-governed
little man, and vowed eternal friendship from that hour.
Hicks, who was all admiration and surprise, did the
Bame.
"Now confess," asked Mr. Calton of Tibbs, as he
picked up his hat, " were you not a little surprised ? "
" I b'lieve you !" replied that illustrious person, holding
52
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
up one hand; " I b'lieve you! When I first heard
of it"
" So sudden," said Septimus Hicks.
" So strange to ask me, you know," said Tibbs.
" So odd altogether!" said the superannuated love-
maker; and then all three laughed.
li I say," said Tibbs, shutting the door which he had
previously opened, and giving full vent to a hitherto
corked-up giggle, " what bothers me is, what will his
father say ? "
Mr. Septimus Hicks looked at Mr. Calton.
" Yes; but the best of it is," said the latter, giggling
in his turn, " I haven't got a father — he ! he! he!"
" You haven't got a father. No; but he has," said
Tibbs.
" Who has ? " inquired Septimus Hicks.
" Why him."
" Him, who ? Do you know my secret ? Do you
mean me?"
" You! No ; you know who I mean," returned Tibbs
with a knowing wink.
" For Heaven's sake whom do you mean ? " inquired
Mr. Calton, who, like Septimus Hicks, was all but out
of his senses at the strange confusion.
" Why Mr. Simpson, of course," replied Tibbs; " who
else could I mean ? "
" I see it all," said the Byron-quoter; " Simpson mar-
ries Julia Maplesone to-morrow morning ! "
" Undoubtedly," replied Tibbs, thoroughly satisfied,
' of course he does."
It would require the pencil of Hogarth to illustrate —
our feeble pen is inadequate to describe — the expression
which the countenances of Mr. Calton and Mr. Septimus
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
58
Hicks respectively assumed, at this unexpected announce-
ment. Equally impossible is it to describe, although per-
haps it is easier for our' lady readers to imagine, what
arts the three ladies could have used, so completely to
entangle their separate partners. Whatever they were,
however, they were successful. The mother was per-
fectly aware of the intended marriage of both daughters ;
and the young ladies were equally acquainted with the
intention of their estimable parent. They agreed, how-
ever, that it would have a much better appearance if
each feigned ignorance of the other's engagement; and
it was equally desirable that all the marriages should
take place on the same day, to prevent the discovery of
one clandestine alliance, operating prejudicially on the
others. Hence, the mystification of Mr. Calton and Mr.
Septimus Hicks, and the preengagement of the unwary
Tibbs.
On the following morning, Mr. Septimus Hicks was
united to Miss Matilda Maplesone. Mr. Simpson also
entered into a u holy alliance" with Miss Julia: Tibbs
acting as father, " his first appearance in that character."
Mr. Calton, not being quite so eager as the two young
men, was rather struck by the double discovery ; and as
he had found some difficulty in getting any one to give
the lady away, it occurred to him that the best mode of
obviating the inconvenience would be not to take her at
all. The lady, however, " appealed," as her counsel said
on the trial of the cause, Maplesone v. Calton, for a
breach of promise, " with a broken heart, to the outraged
laws of her country." She recovered damages to the
amount of 1000/. which the unfortunate knocker was
compelled to pay. Mr. Septimus Hicks having walked
the hospitals, took it into his head to walk off altogether.
54
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
His injured wife is at present residing with her mother
at Boulogne. Mr. Simpson, having the misfortune to
lose his wife six weeks after marriage (by her eloping
with an officer during his temporary sojourn in the Fleet
Prison, in consequence of his inability to discharge her
little mantua-maker's bill), and being disinherited by his
father, who died soon afterwards, was fortunate enough
to obtain a permanent engagement at a fashionable hair-
cutter's; hairdressing being a science to which he had
frequently directed his attention. In this situation he
had necessarily many opportunities of making himself
acquainted with the habits, and style of thinking, of the
exclusive portion of the nobility of this kingdom. To
this fortunate circumstance are we indebted for the pro-
duction of those brilliant efforts of genius, his fashionable
novels, which so long as good taste, unsullied by exagger-
ation, cant, and quackery, continues to exist, cannot fail
to instruct and amuse the thinking portion of the com-
inunity.
It only remains to add, that this complication of disor-
ders completely deprived poor Mrs. Tibbs of all her in-
mates, except the one whom she could have best spared
— her husband. That wretched little man returned
home, on the day of the wedding, in a state of partial
intoxication; and, under the influence of wine, excite-
ment, and despair, actually dared to brave the anger of
his wife. Since that ill-fated hour he has constantly
taken his meals in the kitchen, to which apartment, it is
understood, his witticisms will be in future confined: a
turn-up bedstead having been conveyed there by Mrs.
Tibbs's order for his exclusive accommodation. It is
possible that he will be enabled to finish, in that seclu
siou, his story of the volunteers.
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
55
The advertisement has again appeared in the morn-
ing papers. Results must be reserved for another
chapter.
CHAPTER THE SECOND.
" Well !" said little Mrs. Tibbs to herself, as she sat
in the front parlor of the Coram Street mansion one
morning, mending a piece of stair-carpet off the first
landing; — " Things have not turned out so badly,
either, and if I only get a favorable answer to the ad-
vertisement, we shall be full again."
Mrs. Tibbs resumed her occupation of making worsted
lattice-work in the carpet, anxiously listening to the two-
penny postman, who was hammering his way down the
street, at the rate of a penny a knock. The house was
as quiet as possible. There was only one low sound to
be heard — it was the unhappy Tibbs cleaning the gen-
tlemen's boots in the back kitchen, and accompanying
himself with a buzzing noise, in wretched mockery of
humming a tune.
The postman drew near the house. He paused — so
did Mrs. Tibbs. A knock — a bustle — a letter —
post-paid.
" T. I. presents compt. to I. T. and T. I. begs To say
that i see the advertisement And she will Do Herself
the pleasure of calling On you at 12 o'clock to-morrow
■norning.
"T. T. as To apologise to I. T. for the shortness
66
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Of the notice But i hope it will not unconvenieace
you. "I remain yours Truly
" Wednesday evening."
Little Mrs. Tibbs perused the document, over and
over again ; and the more she read it, the more was she
confused by the mixture of the first and third person ;
the substitution of the " I" for the " T. I. ; " and
transition of the " I. T." to the " you." The writ-
ing looked like a skein of thread in a tangle, and the
note was ingeniously folded into a perfect square, with
the direction squeezed up into the right-hand corner, as
if it were ashamed of itself. The back of the epistle
was pleasingly ornamented with a large red wafer,
which, with the addition erf divers ink-stains, bore a
marvellous resemblance to a black beetle trodden upon.
One thing, however, was perfectly clear to the perplexed
Mrs. Tibbs. Somebody was to call at twelve. The
drawing-room was forthwith dusted for the third time
that morning ; three or four chairs were pulled out of
their places, and a corresponding number of books care-
fully upset, in order that there might be a due absence of
formality. Down went the piece of stair-carpet before
noticed, and up ran Mrs. Tibbs " to make herself tidy."
The clock of New Saint Pancras Church struck
twelve, and the Foundling, with laudable politeness,
did the same ten minutes afterwards. Saint something
else struck the quarter, and then there arrived a single
lady with a double knock, in a pelisse the color of the
interior of a damson pie; a bonnet of the same, with a
regular conservatory of artificial flowers; a white veil,
and a green parasol, with a cobweb border.
The visitor (who was very fat and red-faced) was
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
57
shown into the drawing-room; Mrs. Tibbs presented
herself, and the negotiation commenced.
"I called in consequence of an advertisement," said
the stranger, in a voice as if she had been playing a set
of Pan's pipes for a fortnight without leaving off.
'■ Yes!" said Mrs. Tibbs, rubbing her hands very
slowly, and looking the applicant full in the face — two
things she always did on such occasions.
" Money isn't no object whatever to me," said the
lady, '• so much as living in a state of retirement and
obtrusion."
Mrs. Tibbs, as a matter of course, acquiesced in such
an exceedingly natural desire.
"I am constantly attended by a medical man," re-
sumed the pelisse wearer ; " I have been a shocking
unitarian for some time — I, indeed, have had very
little peace since the death of Mr. Bloss."
Mrs. Tibbs looked at the relict of the departed Bloss,
and thought he must have had very little peace in his
time. Of course she could not say so; so she looked
very sympathizing.
" I shall be a good deal of trouble to you," said Mrs.
Bloss; " but, for that trouble I am willing to pay. I
am going through a course of treatment which renders
attention necessary. I have one mutton chop in bed at
half-past eight, and another at ten, every morning."
Mrs. Tibbs, as in duty bound, expressed the pity she
felt for anybody placed in such a distressing situation ;
and the carnivorous Mrs. Bloss proceeded to arrange the
various preliminaries with wonderful despatch. " Now
mind." said that lady, after terms were arranged ; "I am
to have the second-floor front, for my bedroom ? "
" Yes, ma'am."
SKETCHES BV BOZ.
u And you'll find room for my little servant Agnes ? "
" Oh ! certainly."
" And I can have one of the cellars in the area for my
bottled porter."
"With the greatest pleasure;—James shall get it
ready for you by Saturday."
" And I'll join the company at the breakfast-table on
Sunday morning," said Mrs. Bloss. " I shall get up on
purpose."
" Very well," returned Mrs. Tibbs, in her most amiable
tone ; for satisfactory references had " been given and re-
quired," and it was quite certain that the new comer had
plenty of money. " It's rather singular," continued Mrs.
Tibbs, with what was meant for a most bewitching smile,
" that we have a gentleman now with us, who is in a
very delicate state of health — a Mr. Gobler. — His
apartment is the back drawing-room."
" The next room ? " inquired Mrs. Bloss.
" The next room," repeated the hostess.
" How very promiscuous ! " ejaculated the widow.
" He hardly ever gets up," said Mrs. Tibbs, in a
whisper.
" Lor !" cried Mrs. Bloss, in an equally low tone.
" And when he is up," said Mrs. Tibbs, " we never can
persuade him to go to bed again."
" Dear me !" said the astonished Mrs. Bloss, drawing
her chair nearer Mrs. Tibbs. " What is his complaint ? "
" Why, the fact is," replied Mrs. Tibbs, with a most
communicative air, " he has no stomach whatever."
" No what ? " inquired Mrs. Bloss, with a look of the
most indescribable alarm.
. " No stomach," repeated Mrs. Tibbs, with a shake of
the head.
THE BOA KDING-HOUSE.
59
" Lord bless us! what an extraordinary case!" gasped
Mrs. Bloss, as if she understood the communication in its
literal sense, and was astonished at a gentleman without
a stomach finding it necessary to board anywhere.
" When I say he has no stomach," explained the chatty
little Mrs. Tibbs, " I mean that his digestion is so much
impaired, and his interior so deranged, that his stomach
is not of the least use to him ; — in fact, it's an incon-
vcnience."
" Never heard such a case in my life!" exclaimed Mrs.
Bloss. " Why, he's wor^e than I am."
" Oh, yes ! " replied Mrs. Tibbs ; — " certainly." She
said this with great confidence, for the damson pelisse
suggested that Mrs. Bloss, at all events, was not suffer-
ing under Mr. Gobler's complaint.
" You have quite incited my curiosity," said Mrs.
Bloss, as she rose to depart. " How I long to see
him!"
" He generally comes down, once a week," replied
Mrs. Tibbs; " I dare say you'll see him on Sunday."
With this consolatory promise Mrs. Bloss was obliged
to be contented. She accordingly walked slowly down
the stairs, detailing her complaints all the way ; and
Mrs. Tibbs followed her, uttering an exclamation of com-
passion at every step. James (who looked very gritty,
for he was cleaning the knives) fell up the kitchen-stairs,
and opened the street-door ; and, after mutual farewells,
Mrs. Bloss slowly departed, down the shady side of the
street.
It is almost superfluous to say, that the lady whom we
have just shown out at the street-door (and whom the
two female servants are now inspecting from the second-
floor windows) was exceedingly vulgar, ignqrant, and
60
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
selfish. Her deceased better-half had been an eminent
cork-cutter, in which capacity he had amassed a decent
fortune. He had no relative but his nephew, and no
friend but his cook. The former had the insolence one
morning to ask for the loan of fifteen pounds ; and, by
way of retaliation, he married the latter next day; he
made a will immediately afterwards, containing a burst
of honest indignation against his nephew (who supported
himself and two sisters on 100/. a year), and a bequest
of his whole property to his wife. lie felt ill after
breakfast, and died after dinner.- There is a mantelpiece-
looking tablet in a civic parish church, setting forth his
virtues, and deploring his loss. He never dishonored a
bill, or gave away a halfpenny.
The relict and sole executrix of this noble-minded man
was an odd mixture of shrewdness and simplicity, liber-
ality and meanness. Bred up as she had been, she knew
no mode of living so agreeable as a boarding-house ; and
having nothing to do, and nothing to wish for, she natu-
rally imagined she must be very ill — an impression
which was most assiduously promoted by her medical
attendant, Dr. Wosky, and her handmaid Agnes: both
of whom, doubtless for good reasons, encouraged all her
extravagant notions.
Since the catastrophe recorded in the last chapter,
Mrs. Tibbs had been very shy of young-lady boarders.
Her present inmates were all lords of the creation, and
she availed herself of the opportunity of their assem-
blage at the dinner-table, to announce the expected arri-
val of Mrs. Bloss. The gentlemen received the com
munication with stoical indifference, and Mrs. Tibbs
devoted all her energies to prepare for the reception of
the valetudinarian. The second-floor front was scrubbed,
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
61
and washed, and flannelled, till the wet went through to
the drawing-room ceiling. Clean white counterpanes,
and curtains, and napkins, water-bottles as clear as crys-
tal, blue jugs, and mahogany furniture, added to the
splendor, and increased the comfort, of the apartment.
The warming-pan was in constant requisition, and a fire
lighted in the room every day. The chattels of Mrs.
Bloss were forwarded by instalments. First, there came
a large hamper of Guinness's stout, and an umbrella;
then, a train of trunks ; then, a pair of clogs and a band-
box; then, an easy-chair with an air-cushion ; then, a
variety of suspicious-looking packages ; and — " though
last not least"— Mrs. Bloss and Agnes: the latter in a
cherry-colored merino dress, open-work stockings, and
shoes with sandals: like a disguised Columbine.
The installation of the Duke of Wellington, as Chan-
cellor of the University of Oxford, was nothing, in point
of bustle and turmoil, to the installation of Mrs. Bloss
in her new quarters. True, there was no bright doctor
of civil law to deliver a classical address on the occasion ;
but there were several other old women present, who
spoke quite as much to the purpose, and understood
themselves equally well. The chop-eater was so fatigued
with the process of removal that she declined leaving her
room until the following morning; so a mutton-chop,
pickle, a pill, a pint bottle of stout, and other medicines,
were carried up-stairs for her consumption.
" Why, what do you think, ma'am ? " inquired the in-
quisitive Agnes of her mistress, after they had been in
the house some three hours ; " what do you think, ma'am ?
the lady of the house is married."
" Married !" said Mrs. Bloss, taking the pill and a
draught of Guinness — " married ! Unpossible !"
62
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" She ie indeed, ma'am," returned the Columbine
" and her husband, ma'am, lives — he — he — he — lives
in the kitchen, ma'am."
" In the kitchen !"
"Yes, ma'am; and he—he — he — the housemaid
says, he never goes into the parlor except on Sundays ;
and that Mrs. Tibbs makes him clean the gentlemen's
boots ; and that he cleans the windows, too, sometimes ;
and that one morning early, when he was in the front
balcony cleaning the drawing-room windows, he called
out to a gentleman on the opposite side of the way, who
used to live here —' Ah ! Mr. Calton, sir, how are
you ?'" Here the attendant laughed till Mrs. Bloss
was in serious apprehension of her chuckling herself
into a lit.
" Well, I never!" said Mrs. Bloss.
" Yes. And please, ma'am, the servants gives him
gin-and-water sometimes; and then he cries, and says
he hates his wife and the boarders, and wants to tickle
them."
" Tickle the boarders!" exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, seriously
alarmed.
" No, ma'am, not the boarders, the servants."
" Oh, is that all!" said Mrs. Bloss, quite satisfied.
" He wanted to kiss me as I came up the kitchen-
stairs, just now," said Agnes, indignantly ; " but I gave it
him — a little wretch!"
This intelligence was but too true. A long course of
snubbing and neglect; his days spent in the kitchen, and
his nights in the turn-up bedstead, had completely broken
the little spirit that the unfortunate volunteer had ever
possessed. He had no one to whom he could detail his
injuries but the servants, and they were almost of neces-
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
sity his chosen confidants. It is no less strange 'ban
true, however, that the little weaknesses which he nad
incurred, most probably during his military career,
seemed to increase as his comforts diminished. He was
actually a sort of journeyman Giovanni of the basement
story.
The next morning, being Sunday, breakfast was laid
in the front parlor at ten o'clock. Nine was the usual
time, but the family always breakfasted an hour later on
Sabbath. Tibbs enrobed himself in his Sunday costume
—a black coat, and exceedingly short, thin trousers; with
a very large white waistcoat, white stockings and cravat,
and Blucher boots — and mounted to the parlor afore-
said. Nobody had come down, and he amused himself
by drinking the contents of the milkpot with a tea-
spoon.
A pair of slippers were heard descending the stairs.
Tibbs flew to a chair; and a stern-looking man, of about
fifty, with very little hair on his head, and a Sunday
paper in his hand, entered the room.
" Good morning, Mr. Evenson," said Tibbs, very hum-
bly, with something between a nod and bow.
" How do you do, Mr. Tibbs ? " replied he of the slip-
pers, as he sat himself down, and began to read his paper
without saying another word.
" Is Mr. Wisbottle in town to-day, do you know, sir?"
inquired Tibbs, just for the sake of saying something.
" I should think he was," replied the stern gentleman.
" He was whistling ' The Light Guitar,' in the next room
to mine, at five o'clock this morning."
'' He's very fond of whistling," said Tibbs, with n
slight smirk.
" Yes — I a'n't ," was the laconic reply.
62 SKETCHES BY BOZ.
"She ie indeed, ma'am," returned the Columbine
u and her husband, ma'am, lives — he — he — he — lives
in the kitchen, ma'am."
" In the kitchen !"
" Yes, ma'am; and he — he — he — the housemaid
says, he never goes into the parlor except on Sundays ;
and that Mrs. Tibbs makes him clean the gentlemen's
boots ; and that he cleans the windows, too, sometimes ;
and that one morning early, when he was in the front
balcony cleaning the drawing-room windows, he called
out to a gentleman on the opposite side of the way, who
used to live here —' Ah! Mr. Calton, sir, how are
you ?'" Here the attendant laughed till Mrs. Bloss
was in serious apprehension of her chuckling herself
into a fit.
" Well, I never!" said Mrs. Bloss.
"Yes. And please, ma'am, the servants gives him
gin-and-water sometimes; and then he cries, and says
he hates his wife and the boarders, and wants to tickle
them."
" Tickle the boarders!" exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, seriously
alarmed.
" No, ma'am, not the boarders, the servants."
" Oh, is that all!" said Mrs. Bloss, quite satisfied.
"He wanted to kiss me as I came up the kitchen-
stairs, just now," said Agnes, indignantly ; " but I gave it
him — a little wretch!"
This intelligence was but too true. A long course of
snubbing and neglect; his days spent in the kitchen, and
his nights in the turn-up bedstead, had completely broken
the little spirit that the unfortunate volunteer had ever
possessed. He had no one to whom he could detail his
injuries but the servants, and they were almost of neces-
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
AS
sity his chosen confidants. It is no less strange fhaD
true, however, that the little weaknesses which he nad
incurred, most probably during his military career,
seemed to increase as his comforts diminished. He was
actually a sort of journeyman Giovanni of the basement
story.
The next morning, being Sunday, breakfast was laid
in the front parlor at ten o'clock. Nine was the usual
time, but the family always breakfasted an hour later on
Sabbath. Tibbs enrobed himself in his Sunday costume
— a black coat, and exceedingly short, thin trousers; with
a very large white waistcoat, white stockings and cravat,
and Blucher boots — and mounted to the parlor afore-
said. Nobody had come down, and he amused himself
by drinking the contents of the milkpot with a tea-
spoon.
A pair of slippers were heard descending the stairs.
Tibbs flew to a chair; and a stern-looking man, of about
fifty, with very little hair on his head, and a Sunday
paper in his hand, entered the room.
" Good morning, Mr. Evenson," said Tibbs, very hum-
bly, with something between a nod and bow.
" How do you do, Mr. Tibbs ? " replied he of the slip-
pers, as he sat himself down, and began to read his paper
without saying another word.
" Is Mr. Wisbottle in town to-day, do you know, sir ? "
inquired Tibbs, just for the sake of saying something.
" I should think he was," replied the stern gentleman.
" He was whistling ' The Light Guitar,' in the next room
to mine, at five o'clock this morning."
" He's very fond of whistling," said Tibbs, with a
slight smirk.
" Yes — I a'n't," was the laconic reply.
62
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" She ie indeed, ma'am," returned the Columbine
" and her husband, ma'am, lives — he — he — he — lives
in the kitchen, ma'am."
" In the kitchen !"
"Yes, ma'am; and he—he — he — the housemaid
says, he never goes into the parlor except on Sundays ;
and that Mrs. Tibbs makes him clean the gentlemen's
boots ; and that he cleans the windows, too, sometimes ;
and that one morning early, when he was in the front
balcony cleaning the drawing-room windows, he called
out to a gentleman on the opposite side of the way, who
used to live here —' Ah! Mr. Calton, sir, how are
you ?'" Here the attendant laughed till Mrs. Bloss
was in serious apprehension of her chuckling herself
into a fit.
" Well, I never!" said Mrs. Bloss.
" Yes. And please, ma'am, the servants gives him
gin-and-water sometimes; and then he cries, and says
he hates his wife and the boarders, and wants to tickle
them."
" Tickle the boarders!" exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, seriously
alarmed.
" No, ma'am, not the boarders, the servants."
" Oh, is that all!" said Mrs. Bloss, quite satisfied.
" He wanted to kiss me as I came up the kitchen-
stairs, just now," said Agnes, indignantly ; "but I gave it
him — a little wretch!"
This intelligence was but too true. A long course of
snubbing and neglect; his days spent in the kitchen, and
his nights in the turn-up bedstead, had completely broken
the little spirit that the unfortunate volunteer had ever
possessed. He had no one to whom he could detail his
injuries but the servants, and they were almost of neces-
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
sity his chosen confidants. It is no less strange 'ban
true, however, that the little weaknesses which he nad
incurred, most probably during his military career,
seemed to increase as bis comforts diminished. He was
actually a sort of journeyman Giovanni of the basement
story.
The next morning, being Sunday, breakfast was laid
in the front parlor at ten o'clock. Nine was the usual
time, but the family always breakfasted an hour later on
Sabbath. Tibbs enrobed himself in his Sunday costume
— a black coat, and exceedingly short, thin trousers ; with
a very large white waistcoat, white stockings and cravat,
and Blucher boots — and mounted to the parlor afore-
said. Nobody had come down, and he amused himself
by drinking the contents of the milkpot with a tea-
spoon.
A pair of slippers were heard descending the stairs.
Tibbs flew to a chair; and a stern-looking man, of about
fifty, with very little hair on his head, and a Sunday
paper in his hand, entered the room.
" Good morning, Mr. Evenson," said Tibbs, very hum-
bly, with something between a nod and bow.
" How do you do, Mr. Tibbs ? " replied he of the slip-
pers, as he sat himself down, and began to read his paper
without saying another word.
" Is Mr. Wisbottle in town to-day, do you know, sir ? "
inquired Tibbs, just for the sake of saying something.
" I should think he was," replied the stern gentleman.
" He was whistling ' The Light Guitar,' in the next room
to mine, at five o'clock this morning."
" He's very fond of whistling," said Tibbs, with a
slight smirk.
" Yes — I a'n't," was the laconic reply.
64
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Mr. John Evenson was in the receipt of an indepen-
dent income, arising chiefly from various houses he owned
in the different suburbs. He was very morose and dis-
contented. He was a thorough radical, and used to at-
tend a great variety of public meetings, for the express
purpose of finding fault with everything that was pro-
posed. Mr. Wisbottle, on the other hand, was a high
Tory. He was a clerk in the Woods and Forests Office,
which he considered rather an aristocratic employment;
he knew the peerage by heart, and could tell you, off-
hand, where any illustrious personage lived. He had a
good set of teeth, and a capital tailor. Mr. Evenson looked
on all these qualifications with profound contempt; and
the consequence was that the two were always disputing,
much to the edification of the rest of the house. It
should be added, that, in addition to his partiality for
whistling, Mr. Wisbottle'liad a great idea of his singing
powers. There were two other boarders, besides the
gentleman in the back drawing-room — Mr. Alfred Tom-
kins and Mr. Frederick O'Bleary. Mr. Tomkins was a
clerk in a wine-house; he was a connoisseur in paint-
ings, and had a wonderful eye for the picturesque. Mr.
O'Bleary was an Irishman, recently imported; he was in
a perfectly wild state ; and had come over to England to
be an apothecary, a clerk in a government office, an
actor, a reporter, or anything else that turned up — he
was not particular. He was on familiar terms with
two small Irish members, and got franks for everybody
in the house. He felt convinced that his intrinsic merits
must procure him a high destiny. He wore shepherd's-
plaid inexpressibles, and used to look under all the ladies'
bonnets as he walked along the streets. His manners
and appearance reminded one of Orson.
THE BOARDING—HOUSE.
65
" Here comes Mr. Wisbottle," said Tibbs; and Mr.
Wisbottle forthwith appeared in blue slippers, and a
shawl dressing-gown, whistling "Di piacer."
" Good morning, sir," said Tibbs again. It was almost
the only thing he ever said to anybody.
" How are you, Tibbs ? " condescendingly replied the
amateur; and he walked to the window, and whistled
louder than ever.
" Pretty air, that!" said Evenson, with a snarl, and
without taking his eyes off the paper.
" Glad you like it," replied Wisbottle, highly gratified.
" Don't you think it would sound better, if you whis-
tied it a little louder ? " inquired the mastiff.
" No; I don't think it would," rejoined the unconscious
Wisbottle.
" I'll tell you what, Wisbottle," said Evenson, who had
been bottling up his anger for some hours — " the next
time you feel disposed to whistle ' The Light Guitar' at
five o'clock in the morning, I'll trouble you to whistle it
with your head out o' window. If you don't, I'll learn
the triangle — I will by — "
The entrance of Mrs. Tibbs (with the keys in a little
basket) interrupted the threat, and prevented its conclu-
sion.
Mrs. Tibbs apologized for being down rather late; the
bell was rung ; James brought up the urn, and received
au unlimited order for dry toast and bacon. Tibbs sat
down at the bottom of the table, and began eating
water-cresses like a Nebuchadnezzar. Mr. O'Bleary
appeared, and Mr. Alfred Tomkins. The compliments
of the morning were exchanged, and the tea was
made.
" God bless me !exclaimed Tomkins, who had been
voc. n 5
66
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
looking out at the window. " Here — Wisbottle — prav
eome here — make haste."
Mr. Wisbottle started from the table, and every one
looked up.
" Do you see," said the connoisseur, placing Wisbottle
in the right position — "a little more this way: there —
do you see how splendidly the light falls upon the left
side of that broken chimney-pot at No. 48 ? "
" Dear me ! I see," replied Wisbottle, in a tone of ad-
miration.
" I never saw an object stand out so beautifully against
the clear sky in my life," ejaculated Alfred. Everybody
(except John Evenson) echoed the sentiment; for Mr.
Tomkins had a great character for finding out beauties
which no one else could discover — he certainly de-
served it.
" I have frequently observed a chimney-pot in College
Green, Dublin, which has a much better effect," said the
patriotic O'Bleary, who never allowed Ireland to be out-
done on any point.
The assertion was received with obvious incredulity,
for Mr. Tomkins declared that no other chimney-pot in
the United Kingdom, broken or unbroken, could be so
beautiful as the one at No. 48.
The room-door was suddenly thrown open, and Agnes
appeared leading in Mrs. Bloss, who was dressed in a
geranium-colored muslin gown, and displayed a gold
watch of huge dimensions ; a chain to match ; and a
splendid assortment of rings, with enormous stones. A
general rush was made for a chair, and a regular intro-
duction took place. Mr. John Evenson made a slight
inclination of the head ; Mr. Frederick O'Bleary, Mr.
Alfred Tomkins, and Mr. Wisbottle, bowed like the man-
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
67
darins in a grocer's shop; Tibbs rubbed hands, and went
round in circles. He was observed to close one eye, and to
assume a clock-work sort of expression with the other;
this has been considered as a wink, and it has been
reported that Agnes was its object. We repel the
calumny, and challenge contradiction.
Mrs. Tibbs inquired after Mrs. Bloss's health in a low
tone. Mrs. Bloss, with a supreme contempt for the
memory of Lindley Murray, answered the various ques-
tions in a most satisfactory manner; and a pause ensued,
during which the eatables disappeared with awful ra-
pidity.
" You must have been very much pleased with the
appearance of the ladies going to the drawing-room the
other day, Mr. O'Bleary ? " said Mrs. Tibbs, hoping to
start a topic.
" Yes," replied Orson, with a mouthful of toast.
" Never saw anything like it before, I suppose ? " sug-
gested Wisbottle.
"No—except the Lord Lieutenant's levees," replied
O'Bleary.
"Are they at all equal to our drawing-rooms ? "
" Oh, infinitely superior ! "
" Gad ! I don't know," said the aristocratic Wisbottle,
"the Dowager Marchioness of Publiccash was most
magnificently dressed, and so was the Baron Slappen-
fcachenhausen."
" What was he presented on ? " inquired Evenson.
" On his arrival in England."
" I thought so," growled the radical; " you never hear
of these fellows being presented on their going away
again. They know better than that."
" Unless somebody pervades them with an apint-
68
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
ment," said Mrs. Bloss, joining in the conversation in a
faint voice.
" Well," said Wisbottle, evading the point, " it's a
splendid sight."
"And did it never occur to you," inquired the rad-
ical, who never would be quiet; " did it never occur to
you, that you pay for these precious ornaments of so-
ciety ? "
" It certainly has occurred to me," said Wisbottle, who
thought this answer was a poser; " it has occurred to me,
and I am willing to pay for them."
" Well, and it has occurred to me too," replied John
Evenson, " and I a'n't willing to pay for 'em. Then why
should I ? — I say, why should I ? " continued the poli-
tician, laying down the paper, and knocking his knuckles
on the table. "There are two great principles — de-
mand — "
" A cup of tea if you please, dear," interrupted Tibbs.
" And supply — "
" May I trouble you to hand this tea to Mr. Tibbs ? "
said Mrs. Tibbs, interrupting the argument, and uncon-
sciously illustrating it.
The thread of the orator's discourse was broken. He
drank his tea and resumed the paper.
" If it's very fine," said Mr. Alfred Tomkins, address-
ing the company in general, " I shall ride down to Rich-
mond to-day, and come back by the steamer. There are
some splendid effects of light and shade on the Thames;
the contrast between the blueness of the sky and the
yellow water is frequently exceedingly beautiful." Mr.
Wisbottle hummed, " Flow on, thou shining river."
" We have some splendid steam-vessels in Ireland,"
said O'Bleary.
THE BOABDING-HOUSE.
69
" Certainly," said Mrs. Bloss, delighted to find a sub-
ject broached in which she could take part.
"The accommodations are extraordinary," said O'-
Bleary.
" Extraordinary indeed," returned Mrs. Bloss. " When
Mr. Bloss was alive, he was promiscuously obligated to
go to Ireland on business. I went with him, and raly
the manner in which the ladies and gentlemen were
accommodated with berths, is not creditable."
Tibbs, who had been listening to the dialogue, looked
aghast, and evinced a strong inclination to ask a question,
but was checked by a look from his wife. Mr. Wisbottle
laughed, and said Tomkins had made a pun ; and Tom-
kins laughed too, and said he had not.
The remainder of the meal passed off as breakfasts
usually do. Conversation flagged, and people played
with their tea-spoons. The gentlemen looked out at the
window; walked about the room ; and, when they got
near the door, dropped off one by one. Tibbs retired to
the back parlor by his wife's orders, to check the green-
grocer's weekly account; and ultimately Mrs. Tibbs and
Mrs. Bloss were left alone together.
" Oh dear ! " said the latter, " T feel alarmingly faint;
it's very singular." (It certainly was, for she had eaten
four pounds of solids that morning.) " By the by," said
Mrs. Bloss, " I have not seen Mr. What's his name yet."
" Mr. Gobler ? " suggested Mrs. Tibbs.
" Yes."
" Oh !" said Mrs. Tibbs, " he is a most mysterious
person. He has his meals regularly sent up-stairs, and
sometimes don't leave his room for weeks together."
" I haven't seen or heard nothing of him," repeated
Mrs. Bloss.
70
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
"I dare say you'll hear him to-night," replied Mrs.
Tibbs; " he generally groans a good deal on Sunday
evenings."
" I never felt such an interest in any one in my life,"
ejaculated Mrs. Bloss. A little double-knock interrupted
the conversation; Doctor Wosky was announced, and
duly shown in. He was a little man with a red face, —
dressed of course in black, with a stiff white neckerchief.
He had a very good practice, and plenty of money, which
he had amassed by invariably humoring the worst fancies
of all the females of all the families he had ever been
introduced into. Mrs. Tibbs offered to retire, but was
entreated to stay.
" Well, my dear ma'am, and how are we ? " inquired
Wosky, in a soothing tone.
" Very ill, doctor — very ill," said Mrs. Bloss, in a
whisper.
"Ah! we must take care of ourselves; — we must,
indeed," said the obsequious Wosky, as he felt the pulse
of his interesting patient.
" How is our appetite ? "
Mrs. Bloss shook her head.
" Our friend requires great care," said Wosky, appeal-
ing to Mrs. Tibbs, who of course assented. " I hope,
however, with the blessing of Providence, that we shall
be enabled to make her quite stout again." Mrs. Tibbs
wondered in her own mind what the patient would be
when she was made quite stout.
" We must take stimulants," said the cunning Wosky
— " plenty of nourishment, and, above all, we must keep
our nerves quiet; we positively must not give way to
Dur sensibilities. We must take all we can get," con-
jluded the doctor, as he pocketed his fee, " and we must
keep quiet."
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
71
" Dear man !" exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, as the doctor
stepped into his carriage.
" Charming creature indeed — quite a lady's man !"
said Mrs. Tibbs, and Doctor Wosky rattled away to
make fresh gulls of delicate females, and pocket fresh
fees.
As we had occasion, in a former paper, to describe a
dinner at Mrs. Tibbs's ; and as one meal went off very
like another on all ordinary occasions; we will not
fatigue our readers by entering into any other detailed
account of the domestic economy of the establishment.
We will therefore proceed to events, merely premising
that the mysterious tenant of the back drawing-room
was a lazy, selfish hypochondriac; always complaining
and never ill. As his character in many respects closely
assimilated to that of Mrs. Bloss, a very warm friendship
soon sprang up between them. He was tall, thin, and
pale ; he always fancied he hhd a severe pain somewhere
or other, and his face invariably wore a pinched, screwed-
up expression ; he looked, indeed, like a man who had
got his feet in a tub of exceedingly hot water, against
his will.
For two or three months after Mrs. Bloss's first ap-
pearance in Coram Street, John Evenson was observed
to become, every day, more sarcastic, and more ill-
natured; and there was a degree of additional impor-
tance in his manner, which clearly showed that he fan-
cied he had discovered something, which he only wanted
a proper opportunity of divulging. He found it at
last.
One evening, the different inmates of the house were
assembled in the drawing-room engaged in their ordinary
occupations. Mr. Gobler and Mrs. Bloss were sitting at
72
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
a small card-table near the centre window, playing crib-
,bage ; Mr. Wisbottle was describing semicircles on the
music-stool, turning over the leaves of a book on the
piano, and humming most melodiously ; Alfred Tomkins
was sitting at the round table, with his elbows duly
squared, making a pencil sketch of a head considerably
larger than his own ; O'Bleary was reading Horace, and
trying to look as if he understood it; and John Evenson
had drawn his chair close to Mrs. Tibbs's work-table, and
was talking to her very earnestly in a low tone.
" I can assure you, Mrs. Tibbs," said the radical, lay-
ing his forefinger on the muslin she was at work on; "I
can assure you, Mrs. Tibbs, that nothing but the interest
I take in your welfare would induce me to make this
communication. I repeat, I fear Wisbottle is endeavor-
ing to gain the affections of that young woman, Agnes,
and that he is in the habit of meeting her in the store-
* 9
room on the first floor, over the leads. From my bed-
room I distinctly heard voices there, last night. I opened
my door immediately, and crept very softly on to the
landing: there I saw Mr. Tibbs, who, it seems, had
been disturbed also. — Bless me, Mrs. Tibbs, you change
color!"
"No, no — it's nothing," returned Mrs. T. in a hurried
manner; " it's only the heat of the room."
" A flush!" ejaculated Mrs. Bloss from the card-table ;
" that's good for four."
" If I thought it was Mr. Wisbottle," said Mrs. Tibbs,
after a pause, " he should leave this house instantly."
" Go !" said Mrs. Bloss again.
" And if I thought," continued the hostess with a most
threatening air, " if I thought he was assisted by Mr.
Tibbs—"
THE BOAliDING—HOUSE.
73
" One for his nob! " said Gobler.
" Ob," said Evenson, in a most soothing tone — he
liked to make mischief — "I should hope Mr. Tibbs was
not in any way implicated. He always appeared to me
very harmless."
"I have generally found him so," sobbed poor little
Mrs. Tibbs; crying like a watering-pot.
" Hush ! hush ! pray — Mrs. Tibbs — consider — we
shall be observed — pray, don't! " said John Evensou,
fearing his whole plan would be interrupted. " We will
Bet the matter at rest with the utmost care, and I shall
be most happy to assist you in doing so."
Mrs. Tibbs murmured her thanks.
" When you think every one has retired to rest to-
night," said Evenson very pompously, " if you'll meet
me without a light, just outside my bedroom-door, by the
staircase-window, I think we can ascertain who the par-
ties really are, and you will afterwards be enabled to
proceed as you think proper."
Mrs. Tibbs was easily persuaded ; her curiosity was
excited, her jealousy was roused, and the arrangement
was forthwith made. She resumed her work, and John
Evenson walked up and down the room with his hands
in his pockets, looking as if nothing had happened. The
game of cribbage was over, and conversation began
again.
" Well, Mr. O'Bleary," said the humming-top, turning
round on his pivot, and facing the company, " what did
you think of Vauxhall the other night ? "
" Oh, it's very fair," replied Orson, who had been en-
thusiastically delighted with the whole exhibition.
" Never saw anything like that Captain Ross's set-out
-eh?"
74
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" No," returned the patriot, with his usual reservation
— " except in Dublin."
" I saw the Count de Canky and Captain Fitzthomp-
ton in the Gardens," said Wisbottle; "they appeared
much delighted."
" Then it must be beautiful," snarled Evenson.
" I think the white bears is partickerlerly well done,"
suggested Mrs. Bloss. " In their shaggy white coats they
look just like Polar bears — don't you think they do,
Mr. Evenson ? "
" I think they look a great deal more like omnibus cads
on all fours," replied the discontented one.
" Upon the whole, I should have liked our evening
very well," gasped Gobler; " only I caught a desperate
cold which increased my pain dreadfully ! I was obliged
to have several shower-baths, before I could leave my
room."
" Capital things those shower-baths! " ejaculated Wis-
bottle.
" Excellent! " said Tomkins.
" Delightful! " chimed in O'Bleary. (He had once
seen one outside a tinman's.)
" Disgusting machines !" rejoined Evenson, who ex-
tended his dislike to almost every created object, mascu-
line, feminine, or neuter.
" Disgusting, Mr. Evenson! " said Gobler, in a tone
of strong indignation. — " Disgusting ! Look at their
utility — consider how many lives they have saved by
promoting perspiration."
" Promoting perspiration, indeed," growled John Even-
eon, stopping short in his walk across the large squares
in the pattern of the caTpet — "I was ass enough to be
oersuaded some time ago to have one in my bedroom.
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
76
'Gad, I was in it once, and it effectually cured me, for
the mere sight of it threw me into a profuse perspiration
for six months afterwards."
A titter followed this announcement, and before it had
subsided James brought up "the tray," containing the
remains of a leg of lamb which had made its debut at
dinner; bread; cheese; an atom of butter in a forest
of parsley ; one pickled walnut and the third of another,
and so forth. The boy disappeared, and returned again
with another tray, containing glasses and jugs of hot and
cold water. The gentlemen brought in their spirit bob
ties; the housemaid placed divers plated bedroom can-
dlesticks under the card-table; and the servants retired
for the night.
Chairs were drawn round the table, and the conversa
tion proceeded in the customary manner. John Evenson,
who never ate supper, lolled on the sofa, and amused
himself by contradicting everybody. O'Bleary ate as
much as he could conveniently carry, and Mrs. Tibbs
felt a due degree of indignation thereat; Mr. Gobler
and Mrs. Bloss conversed most affectionately on the
subject of pill-taking and other innocent amusements :
and Tomkins and Wisbottle " got into an argument;"
that is to say, they both talked very loudly and vehe-
mently, each flattering himself that he had got some
advantage about something, and neither of them having
more than a very indistinct idea of what they were talk-
ing about. An hour or two passed away ; and the
boarders and the brass candlesticks retired in pairs to
their respective bedrooms. John Evenson pulled off his
boots, locked his door, and determined to sit up until Mr.
Gobler had retired. He always sat in the drawing-room
an hour after everybody else had left it, taking medicine,
and groaning.
76
SKETCHES BY B02.
Great Coram Street was hushed into a state of pro-
found repose: it was nearly two o'clock. A hackney
coach now and then rumbled slowly by ; and occasionally
some stray lawyer's clerk, on his way home to Somers'
Town, struck his iron heel on the top of the coal-cellar
with a noise resembling the click of a smoke-jack. A
low, monotonous, gushing sound was heard, which added
considerably to the romantic dreariness of the scene.
It was the water " coming in " at number eleven.
" He must be asleep by this time," said John Evenson
to himself after waiting with exemplary patience for
nearly an hour after Mr. Gobler had left the drawing-
room. He listened for a few moments; the house was
perfectly quiet ; he extinguished his rushlight, and
opened his bedroom-door. The staircase was so dark
that it was impossible to see anything.
" S—s—s ! " whispered the mischief-maker, making a
noise like the first indication a Catherine-wheel gives of
the probability of its going off.
" Hush;" whispered somebody else.
" Is that you, Mrs. Tibbs ? "
" Yes, sir."
" Where ? "
" Here ;" and the misty outline of Mrs. Tibbs ap-
peared at the staircase window like the ghost of Queen
Anne in the tent scene in Richard.
" This way, Mrs. Tibbs," whispered the delighted
busybody: "give me your hand—there! Whoever
these people are, they are in the store-room now, for I
have been looking down from my window, and I could
see that they accidentally upset their candlestick, and
are now in darkness. You have no shoes on, have
THE BOARDING—HOUSE.
77
" No," said little Mrs. Tibbs, who could hardly speak
for trembling.
"Well; I have taken my boots off, so we can go
down, close to the storeroom-door, and listen over the
banisters and down-stairs they both crept accord-
ingly, every board creaking like a patent mangle on a
Saturday afternoon.
" It's Wisbottle and somebody, I'll swear," exclaimed
the radical, in an energetic whisper, when they had
listened for a few moments.
" Hush — pray let's hear what they say ! " exclaimed
Mrs. Tibbs, the gratification of whose curiosity was now
paramount to every other consideration.
" Ah! if I could but believe you," said a female voice
coquettishly, " I'd be bound to settle my missis for life."
" What does she say ?" inquired Mr. Evenson, who
was not quite so well situated as his companion.
" She says she'll settle her missis's life," replied Mrs.
Tibbs. " The wretch ! they're plotting murder."
" I know you want money," continued the voice, which
belonged to Agnes; " and if you'd secure me the five
hundred pound, I warrant she should take fire soon
enough."
" What's that ? " inquired Evenson again. He could
just hear enough to want to hear more.
" I think she says she'll set the house on fire," replied
the affrighted Mrs. Tibbs. " But thank God I'm insured
in the Phoenix ! "
" The moment I have secured your mistress, my dear,"
said a man's voice, in a strong Irish brogue, " you may
depend on having the money."
" Bless my soul, it's Mr. O'Bleary !" exclaimed Mrs.
Tibbs, in a parenthesis.
76
SKETCHES BY BOZ
Great Coram Street was hushed into a state of pro
found repose: it was nearly two o'clock. A hackney
coach now and then rumbled slowly by ; and occasionally
some stray lawyer's clerk, on his way home to Somers'
Town, struck his iron heel on the top of the coal-cellar
with a noise resembling the click of a smoke-jack. A
low, monotonous, gushing sound was heard, which added
considerably to the romantic dreariness of the scene.
It was the water " coming in " at number eleven.
" He must be asleep by this time," said John Evenson
to himself after waiting with exemplary patience for
nearly an hour after Mr. Gobler had left the drawing-
room. He listened for a few moments; the house was
perfectly quiet ; he extinguished his rushlight, and
opened his bedroom-door. The staircase was so dark
that it was impossible to see anything.
" S—s—s !" whispered the mischief-maker, making a
noise like the first indication a Catherine-wheel gives of
the probability of its going off.
" Hush;" whispered somebody else.
" Is that you, Mrs. Tibbs ? "
" Yes, sir."
" Where ? "
" Here;" and the misty outline of Mrs. Tibbs ap-
peared at the staircase window like the ghost of Queen
Anne in the tent scene in Richard.
"This way, Mrs. Tibbs," whispered the delighted
busybody: "give me your hand — there! Whoever
these people are, they are in the store-room now, for I
have been looking down from my window, and I could
see that they accidentally upset their candlestick, and
are now in darkness. You have no shoes on, have
you?"
THE BO AKDING—HOUSE.
77
" No," said little Mrs. Tibbs, who could hardly speak
for trembling.
"Well; I have taken my boots off, so we can go
down, close to the storeroom-door, and listen over the
banisters ;" and down-stairs they both crept accord-
ingly, every board creaking like a patent mangle on a
Saturday afternoon.
" It's Wisbottle and somebody, I'll swear," exclaimed
the radical, in an energetic whisper, when they had
listened for a few moments.
" Hush — pray let's hear what they say ! " exclaimed
Mrs. Tibbs, the gratification of whose curiosity was now
paramount to every other consideration.
" Ah! if I could but believe you," said a female voice
coquettishly, " I'd be bound to settle my missis for life."
" What does she say ?" inquired Mr. Evenson, who
was not quite so well situated as his companion.
" She says she'll settle her missis's life," replied Mrs.
Tibbs. " The wretch ! they're plotting murder."
" I know you want money," continued the voice, which
belonged to Agnes ; " and if you'd secure me the five
hundred pound, I warrant she should take fire soon
enough."
" What's that ? " inquired Evenson again. He could
just hear enough to want to hear more.
" I think she says she'll set the house on fire," replied
the affrighted Mrs. Tibbs. " But thank God I'm insured
in the Phoenix ! "
" The moment I have secured your mistress, my dear,"
said a man's voice, in a strong Irish brogue, " you may
depend on having the money."
" Bless my soul, it's Mr. O'Bleary ! " exclaimed Mrs.
Tibbs, in a parenthesis.
78
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
u The villain ! " said the indignant Mr. Evenson.
" The first thing to be done," continued the Hibernian,
" is to poison Mr. Gobler's mind."
" Oh, certainly ;" returned Agnes.
" What's that ? " inquired Evenson again, in an agony
of curiosity and a whisper.
" He says she's to mind and poison Mr. Gobler," re-
plied Mrs. Tibbs, aghast at this sacrifice of human life.
" And in regard of Mrs. Tibbs," continued O'Bleary.
— Mrs. Tibbs shuddered.
" Hush! " exclaimed Agnes, in a tone of the greatest
alarm, just as Mrs. Tibbs was on the extreme verge of a
fainting-fit. " Hush ! "
" Hush !" exclaimed Evenson, at the same moment to
Mrs. Tibbs.
" There's somebody coming up stairs," said Agnes to
O'Bleary.
"There's somebody coming down stairs," whispered
Evenson to Mrs. Tibbs.
" Go into the parlor, sir," said Agnes to her compan-
ion. " You will get there, before whoever it is, gets to
the top of the kitchen-stairs."
" The drawing-room, Mrs. Tibbs!" whispered the
astonished Evenson to his equally astonished compan-
ion ; and for the drawing-room they both made, plainly
hearing the rustling of two persons, one coming down
stairs, and one coming up.
" What can it be ? " exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs. " It's
like a dream. I wouldn't be found in this situation for
.he world! "
" Nor I," returned Evenson, who could never bear a
joke at his own expense. " Hush ! here they are at the
door."
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
79
„ " What fun ? " whispered one of the new-comers. — It
was Wisbottle.
" Glonous!" replied his companion, in an equally low
tone. — This was Alfred Tomkins. " Who would have
thought it ? "
" I told you so," said Wisbottle, in a most knowing
whisper. " Lord bless you, he has paid her most ex-
traordinary attention for the last two months. I saw
'em when I was sitting at the piano to-night."
" Well, do you know I didn't notice it ? " interrupted
Tomkins.
" Not notice it! " continued Wisbottle. " Bless you ;
I saw him whispering to her, and she crying; and then
I'll swear I heard him say something about to-night
when we were all in bed."
" They're talking of us!" exclaimed the agonized
Mrs. Tibbs, as the painful suspicion, and a sense of
their situation, flashed upon her mind.
" I know it — I know it," replied Evenson, with a
melancholy consciousness that there was no mode of
escape.
" What's to be done ? we cannot both stop here ! " ejac-
ulated Mrs. Tibbs, in a state of partial derangement.
" I'll get up the chimney," replied Evenson, who really
meant what he said.
" You can't," said Mrs. Tibbs, in despair. " You can't
— it's a register stove."
" Hush !" repeated John Evenson.
" Hush — hush ! " cried somebody down-stairs.
" What a d—d hushing ! " said Alfred Tomkins, who
began to get rather bewildered.
" There they are ! " exclaimed the sapient Wisbottle.
as a rustling noise was heard in the storeroom.
80
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Hark!" whispered both the young men.
" Hark ! " repeated Mrs. Tibbs and Evenson.
" Let me alone, sir," said a female voice in the store-
room.
" Oh, Hagnes! " cried another voice, which clearly be-
longed to Tibbs, for nobody else ever owned one like it.
" Ob, Hagnes — lovely creature ! "
" Be quiet, sir! " (A bounce.)
" Hag — "
" Be quiet, sir — I am ashamed of you. Think of
your wife, Mr. Tibbs. Be quiet, sir?"
" My wife!" exclaimed the valorous Tibbs, who was
clearly under the influence of gin-and-water, and a mis-
placed attachment; "I ate her! Oh, Hagnes! when
I was in the volunteer corps, in eighteen hundred
and — "
"I declare I'll scream. Be quiet, sir, will you?
(Another bounce and a scuffle.)
" What's that ? " exclaimed Tibbs, with a start.
" What's what ? " said Agnes, stopping short.
" Why, that!"
" Ah! you have done it nicely now, sir," sobbed the
frightened Agnes, as a tapping was heard at Mrs. Tibbs'
bedroom-door, which would have beaten any dozen wood-
peckers hollow.
" Mrs. Tibbs ! Mrs. Tibbs!" called out Mrs. Bloss.
" Mrs. Tibbs, pray get up." (Here the imitation of a
woodpecker was resumed with tenfold violence.)
" Oh, dear — dear ! " exclaimed the wretched partner
of the depraved Tibbs. " She's knocking at my door.
We must be discovered! What will they think?"
" Mrs. Tibbs! Mrs. Tibbs!" screamed the wood-
pecker again.
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
81
" What's the matter!" shouted Gobler, bursting out
of the back drawing-room, like the dragon at Astley's.
" Oh, Mr. Gobler !" cried Mrs. Bloss, with a proper
approximation to hysterics ; " I think the house is on
fire, or else there's thieves in it. I have heard the most
dreadful noises! "
" The devil you have ! " shouted Gobler again, bounc-
ing back into his den, in happy imitation of the aforesaid
dragon, and returning immediately with a lighted candle.
" Why, what's this ? Wisbottle! Tomkins ! O'Bleary !
Agnes ! What the deuce ! all up and dressed ? "
" Astonishing ! " said Mrs. Bloss, who had run down-
Btairs, and taken Mr. Gobler's arm.
" Call Mrs. Tibbs directly, somebody," said Gobler,
turning into the front drawing-room. " What! Mrs.
Tibbs and Mr. Evenson !! "
" Mrs. Tibbs and Mr. Evenson ! " repeated everybody,
as that unhappy pair were discovered : Mrs. Tibbs seated
in an arm-chair by the fireplace, and Mr. Evenson stand-
ing by her side.
We must leave the scene that ensued to the reader's
imagination. We could tell, how Mrs. Tibbs forthwith
fainted away, and how it required the united strength of
Mr. Wisbottle and Mr. Alfred Tomkins to hold her in
her chair ; how Mr. Evenson explained, and how his ex-
planation was evidently disbelieved ; how Agnes repelled
the accusations of Mrs. Tibbs, by proving that she was
negotiating with Mr. O'Bleary to influence her mistress's
affections in his behalf; and how Mr. Gobler threw a
damp counterpane on the hopes of Mr. O'Bleary by
avowing that he (Gobler) had already proposed to, and
been accepted by, Mrs. Bloss ; how Agnes was discharged
from that lady's service; how Mr. O'Bleary discharged
VOL. II. fi
82
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
himself from Mrs. Tibbs's house, without going through
the form of previously discharging his bill; and how that
disappointed young gentleman rails against England and
the English, and vows there is no virtue or fine feeling
extant, "except in Ireland." We repeat that we could
tell all this, but we love to exercise our self-denial, and
we therefore prefer leaving it to be imagined.
The lady whom we have hitherto described as Mrs.
Bloss, is 110 more. Mrs. Gobler exists; Mrs. Bloss has
left us forever. In a secluded retreat in Newington
Butts, far, far, removed from the noisy strife of that
great boarding-house, the world, the enviable Gobler and
his pleasing wife revel in retirement; happy in their com-
plaints, their table, and their medicine ; wafted through
life by the grateful prayers of all the purveyors of animal
food within three miles round.
We would willingly stop here, but we have a painful
duty imposed upon us which we must discharge. Mr.
and Mrs. Tibbs have separated by mutual consent, Mrs.
Tibbs receiving one moiety of 43/. 15s. 10a'., which we
before stated to be the amount of her husband's annual
income, and Mr Tibbs the other. He is sp> nding the
evening of his days in retirement; and he is spending
also, annually, that small but honorable independence.
He resides among the original settlers at Walworth ; and
it has been stated, on unquestionable authority, that the
conclusion of the volunteeer story has been heard in a
small tavern in that respectable neighborhood.
The unfortunate Mrs. Tibbs has determined to dispose
of the whole of her furniture by public auction, and to
retire from a residence in which she has suffered so
much. Mr. Robins has been applied to, to conduct the
sale, and the transcendent abilities of the literary gentle-
MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN.
83
men connected with his establishment are now devoted
to the task of drawing up the preliminary advertisement.
It is to contain, among a variety of brilliant matter, sev-
enty-eight words in large capitals, and six original quota
tions in inverted commas.
CHAPTER n.
mr. minns and his cousin.
Mr. Augustus Minns was a bachelor, of about forty
as he said — of about eight-and-forty as his friends said.
He was always exceedingly clean, precise, and tidy; per-
haps somewhat priggish, and the most retiring man in the
world. He usually wore a brown frock-coat without a
wrinkle, light inexplicables without a spot, a neat neck-
erchief with a remarkably neat tie, and boots without a
fault; moreover, he always carried a brown silk umbrella
with an ivory handle. He was a clerk in Somerset
House, or, as he said himself, he held " a responsible
situation under Government." He had a good and in-
creasing salary, in addition to some 10,000/. of his own
(invested in the funds), and he occupied a first floor in
Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, where he had resided
for twenty years, having been in the habit of quarrelling
with his landlord the whole time: regularly giving notice
of his intention to quit on the first day of every quarter,
and as regularly countermanding it on the second. There
were two classes of created objects which he held in the
deepest and most unmingled horror; these were dogs
84
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
and children. He was not unamiable, but he could, at
any time, have viewed the execution of a dog, or the
assassination of an infant, with the liveliest satisfaction.
Their habits were at variance with his love of order;
and his love of order was as powerful as his love of life.
Mr. Augustus Minns had no relations, in or near Lon-
don, with the exception of his cousin,' Mr. Octavius
Budden, to whose son, whom he had never seen (for he
disliked the father) he had consented to become godfather
by proxy. Mr. Budden having realized a moderate for-
tune by exercising the trade or calling of a corn-chandler,
and having a great predilection for the country, had pur-
chased a cottage in the vicinity of Stamford Hill, whither
he retired with the wife of his bosom, and his only son,
Master Alexander Augustus Budden. One evening, as
Mr. and Mrs. B. were admiring their son, discussing his
various merits, talking over his education, and disputing
whether the classics should be made an essential part
thereof, the lady pressed so strongly upon her husband
the propriety of cultivating the friendship of Mr. Minns
in behalf of their son, that Mr. Budden at last made up
his mind, that it should not be his fault if he and his
cousin were not in future more intimate.
" I'll break the ice, my love," said Mr. Budden, stir-
ring up the sugar at the bottom of his glass of brandy-
and-wator, and casting a sidelong look at his spouse to
see the etfect of the announcement of his determina-
tion, "by asking Minns down to dine with us, on Sun-
day."
"Then, pray Budden write to your cousin at once,'
replied Mrs. Budden. "Who knows, if we could only
get him down here, but he might take a fancy to our
ME. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN.
85
Alexander, and leave him his property? — Alick, my
dear, take your legs off the rail of the chair!"
" Very true," said Mr. Budden, musing, " very true,
indeed, my love ! "
On the following morning, as Mr. Minns was sitting
n' his breakfast-table, alternately biting his dry toast, and
casting a look upon the columns of his morning paper,
which he always read from the title to the printer's
name, he heard a loud knock at the street-door; which
was shortly afterwards followed by the entrance of his
servant, who put into his hand a particularly small card,
on which was engraven in immense letters "Mr. Octavius
Budden, Amelia Cottage, (Mrs. B.'s name was Amelia,)
Poplar Walk, Stamford Hill."
" Budden !" ejaculated Minns, " what can bring that
vulgar man here ! — say I'm asleep — say I'm out, and
shall never be home again — anything to keep him down-
stairs."
" But please, sir, the gentleman's coming up," replied
the servant: and the fact was made evident by an appall-
ing creaking of boots on the staircase accompanied by a
pattering noise; the cause of which, Minns' could not, for
the life of him, divine.
" Hem! — show the gentleman in," said the unfortu-
nate bachelor. Exit servant, and enter Octavius pre-
ceded by a large white dog, dressed in a suit of fleecy
hosiery, with pink eyes, large ears, and no perceptible
tail.
The cause of the pattering on the stairs was but too
plain. Mr. Augustus Minns staggered beneath the shock
if the dog's appearance.
" My dear fellow, how are you ? " said Budden, as he
mtered.
86
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
He always spoke at the top of his voice, and always
said the same thing half a dozen times.
" How are you, my hearty ? "
" How do you do, Mr. Budden? — pray take a chair! *
politely stammered the discomfited Minns.
" Thank you — thank you — well—how are you, eh ? "
" Uncommonly well, thank you," said Minns, casting a
diabolical look at the dog, who, with his hind legs on the
floor, and his fore paws resting on the table, was drag-
ging a bit of bread and butter out of a plate preparatory
to devouring it, with the buttered side next the carpet.
"Ah, you rogue !." said Budden to his dog; "you see,
Minns, he's like me, always at home, eh, my boy? —
Egad, I'm precious hot and hungry ! I've walked all the
way from Stamford Hill this morning."
" Have you breakfasted ? " inquired Minns.
" Oh, no ! — came to breakfast with you ; so ring the
bell, my dear fellow, will you? and let's have another
cup and saucer, and the cold ham. — Make myself at
home you see! " continued Budden, dusting his boots
with a table napkin. " Ha ! — ha ! — ha ! — 'pon my
life, I'm hungry."
Minns rang the bell and tried to smile.
" I decidedly never was so hot in my life," continued
Octavius, wiping his forehead: " well, but how are you,
Minns ? 'Pon my soul, you wear capitally ! "
"D'ye think so?" said Minns; and he tried another
smile.
" 'Pon my life, I do ! "
" Mrs. B. and — what's his name — quite well ? "
" Alick — my son, you mean, never better — never
better. But at such a place as we've got at Poplar
Walk, you know, he couldn't be ill if he tried. When
MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN.
87
I first saw it, by Jove! it looked so knowing, with the
front garden, and the green railings, and the brass
knocker, and all that — I really thought it was a cut
above me."
" Don't you think you'd like the ham better," inter-
rupted Minns, " if you cut it the other way ? " He saw,
with feelings which it is impossible to describe, that his
visitor was cutting or rather maiming the ham, in utter
violation of all established rules.
" No, thank ye," returned Budden, with the most bar-
barous indifference to crime, " I prefer.it this way — it
eats short. But I say Minns, when will you come down
and see us? You will be delighted with the place; I
know you will. Amelia and I were talking about you
the other night, and Amelia said — another lump of
sugar, please; thank ye — she said, don't you think you
could contrive, my dear, to say to Mr. Minns, in a friend-
ly way — come down, sir — damn the dog! he's spoiling
your curtains, Minns — ha! — ha! — ha!" Minns leaped
from his seat as though he had received the discharge
from a galvanic battery.
" Come out, sir! — go out, hoo!" cried poor Augustus,
keeping nevertheless, at a very respectful distance from
the dog; having read of a case of hydrophobia in the
paper of that morning. By dint of great exertion, much
shouting, and a marvellous deal of poking under the
tables with a stick and umbrella, the dog was at last
dislodged, and placed on the landing outside the door,
where he immediately commenced a most appalling howl-
ing; at the same time vehemently scratching the paint
off the two nicely varnished bottom panels, until they
resembled the interior of a back-gammon board.
"A good dog for the country that!" coolly observed
88
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Budden to the distracted Minns, "but he's not much used
to confinement. But now, Minns, when will you come
down ? I'll take no denial, positively. Let's see, to-
day's Thursday. — Will you come on Sunday ? We dine
at five, don't say no — do."
After a great deal of pressing, Mr. Augustus Minns,
driven to despair, accepted the invitation and promised
to be at Poplar Walk on the ensuing Sunday, at a quar-
ter before five to the minute.
" Now mind the direction," said Budden: " the coach
goes from the Flower Pot, in Bishopsgate Street, every
half hour. When the coach stops at the Swan, you'll
see, immediately opposite you, a white house."
" Which is your house — I understand," said Minns,
wishing to cut short the visit, and the story, at the same
time.
" No, no, that's not mine; that's Grogus's, the great
ironmonger's. I was going to say —you turn down by
the side of the white house till you can't go another step
further — mind that! — and then you turn to your right,
by some stables — well; close to you, you'll see a wall
with ' Beware of the Dog' written on it in large letters
— (Minns shuddered) — go along by the side of that
wall for about a quarter of a mile — and anybody will
show you which is my place."
" Very well — thank ye — good-by."
" Be punctual."
" Certainly : good morning."
" I say, Minns, you've got a card."
" Yes, I have : thank ye." And Mr. Octavius Bud-
den departed, leaving his cousin looking forward to his
visit of the following Sunday, with the feelings of a pen-
niless poet to the weekly visit of his Scotch landlady.
MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN.
89
Sunday arrived; the sky was bright and clear; crowds
of people were hurrying along the streets, intent on their
different schemes of pleasure for the day; everything
and everybody looked cheerful and happy except Mr.
Augustus Minns.
The day was fine, but the heat was considerable ; when
Mr Minns had fagged up the shady side of Fleet Street,
Cheapside, and Threadneedle Street, he had become
pretty warm, tolerably dusty, and it was getting late into
the bargain. By the most extraordinary good fortune,
however, a coach was waiting at the Flower Pot, into
which Mr. Augustus Minns got, on the solemn assurance
of the cad that the vehicle would start in three minutes
— that being the very utmost extremity of time it was
allowed to wait by Act of Parliament. A quarter of an
hour elapsed, and there were no signs of moving. Minns
looked at his watch for the sixth time.
" Coachman, are you going or not ?" bawled Mr.
Minns, with his head and half his body out of the
coach-window.
" Di—rectly sir," said the coachman, with his hands
in his pockets, looking as much unlike a man in a hurry
as possible.
" Bill, take them clothes off." Five minutes more
elapsed ; at the end of which time the coachman mounted
the box, from whence he looked down the street, and up
the street, and hailed all the pedestrians for another five
minutes.
" Coachman! if you don't go this moment, I shall get
out," said Mr. Minns, rendered desperate by the lateness
of the hour, and the impossibility of being in Poplar
Walk at the appointed time.
" Going this minute, sir," was the reply ; — and, ac-
90
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
oordingly, the machine trundled on for a couple of hun-
dred yards, and then stopped again. Minns doubled him-
self up in a corner of the coach, and abandoned himself
to his fate, as a child, a mother, a bandbox, and a parasol
became his fellow-passengers.
The child was an affectionate and an amiable infant;
the little dear mistook Minus for his other parent, and
screamed to embrace him.
" Be quiet, dear," said the mamma, restraining the
impetuosity of the darling, whose little fat legs were
kicking, and stamping, and twining themselves into the
most complicated forms in an ecstasy of impatience.
" Be quiet, dear, that's not your papa."
" Thank Heaven I am not!" thought Minns, as the
first gleam of pleasure he had experienced that morning
shone like a meteor through his wretchedness.
Playfulness was agreeably mingled with affection in
the disposition of the boy. When satisfied that Mr.
Minns was not his parent, he endeavored to attract his
notice by scraping his drab trousers with his dirty shoes,
poking his chest with his mamma's parasol, and other
nameless endearments peculiar to infancy, with which he
beguiled the tediousness of the ride, apparently very
much to his own satisfaction.
When the unfortunate gentleman arrived at the Swan,
he found to his great dismay that it was a quarter past
five. The white house, the stables, the " Beware of the
Dog," — every landmark was passed with a rapidity not
unusual to a gentleman of a certain age when too late
for dinner. After the lapse of a few minutes, Mr. Minns
found himself opposite a yellow brick house with a green
door, brass knocker and door-plate, green window-frames
and ditto railings, with •' a garden " in front, that is to
MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN.
91
gay, a small loose bit of gravelled ground, with one round
and two scalene triangular beds, containing a fir-tree,
twenty or thirty bulbs, and an unlimited number of mari-
golds. The taste of Mr. and Mrs. Budden was further
displayed by the appearance of a Cupid on each side of
the door, perched upon a heap of large chalk flints, varie-
gated with pink conch-shells. His knock at the door was
answered by a stumpy boy, in drab livery, cotton stock-
ings, and high-lows, who, after hanging his hat on one of
the dozen brass pegs which ornamented the passage, de-
nominated by courtesy " The Hall," ushered him into a
front drawing-room, commanding a very extensive view
of the backs of the neighboring houses. The usual
ceremony of introduction, and so forth, over, Mr. Minns
took his seat: not a little agitated at finding that he was
the last comer, and, somehow or other, the Lion of about
a dozen people, sitting together in a small drawing-room,
getting rid of that most tedious of all time, the time pre-
ceding dinner.
" Well, Brogson," said Budden, addressing an elderly
gentleman in a black coat, drab knee-breeches, and long
gaiters, who, under pretence of inspecting the prints in
an Annual, had been engaged in satisfying himself on
the subject of Mr. Minns's general appearance, by look-
ing at him over the tops of the leaves — "Well, Brog-
son, what do Ministers mean to do ? Will they go out,
or what ? "
" Oh — why — really, you know, I'm the last person
in the world to ask for news. Your cousin, from his
situation, is the most likely person to answer the ques-
tion."
Mr. Minns assured jhe last speaker, that although he
was in Somerset House, he pqssessed no official commu-
92
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
nication relative to the projects of his Majesty's Minis-
ters. But his remark was evidently received incredu-
lously; and no further conjectures being hazarded on the
subject, a long pause ensued, during which the company
occupied themselves in coughing and blowing their
noses, until the entrance of Mrs. Budden caused a gen-
erul rise.
The ceremony of introduction being over, dinner was
announced, and down-stairs the party proceeded accord-
ingly — Mr. Minns escorting Mrs. Budden as far as the
drawing-room door, but being prevented, by the narrow-
ness of the staircase, from extending his gallantry any
farther. The dinner passed off as such dinners usually
do. Ever and anon, amidst the clatter of knives and
forks, and the hum of conversation, Mr. B.'s voice might
be heard, asking a friend to take wine, and assuring him
he was glad to see him -r and a great deal of by-play took
place between Mrs. B. and the servants, respecting the
removal of the dishes, during which her countenance
assumed all the variations of a weather-glass, from
" stormy " to " set fair."
Upon the dessert and wine being placed on the table,
the servant, in compliance with a significant look from
Mrs. B., brought down " Master Alexander," habited in
a sky-blue suit with silver buttons ; and possessing hair
of nearly the same color as the metal. After sundry
praises from his mother, and various admonitions as to
his behavior from his father, he was introduced to his
godfather.
" Well, my little fellow — you are a fine boy, a'n'l
you ? " said Mr. Minns, as happy as a tomtit on bird-
lime.
" Yes."
MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN.
93
" How old are you ? "
" Eight, next We'nsday. How old are you f"
" Alexander," interrupted his mother, " how dare you
ask Mr. Minns how old he is!"
" He asked me how old I was," said the precocious
child, to whom Minns had from that moment internally
resolved that he never would bequeath one shilling. As
soon as the titter occasioned by the observation had sub-
sided, a little smirking man with red whiskers, sitting at
the bottom of the table, who during the whole dinner had
been endeavoring to obtain a listener to some stories
about Sheridan, called out, with a very patronizing air
— " Alick, what part of speech is be ? "
" A verb."
"That's a good boy," said Mrs. Budden with all a
mother's pride. " Now, you know what a verb is ? "
" A verb is a word which signifies to- be, to do, or to
suffer; as, I am—I rule — I am ruled. Give me an
apple, Ma."
" I'll give you an apple," replied the man with the red
whiskers, who was an established friend of the family,
or in other words was always invited by Mrs. Budden,
whether Mr. Budden liked it or not, " if you'll tell me
what is the meaning of be."
" Be ?" said the prodigy, after a little hesitation —
" an insect that gathers honey."
" No, dear," frowned Mrs. Budden ; " B double E is
the substantive."
" 1 don't think he knows much yet about common sub-
stantives," said the smirking gentleman, who thought this
an admirable opportunity for letting off a joke. " It's
clear he's not very well acquainted with proper names.
He! He! He!"
94
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Gentlemen," called out Mr. Budden, from the end o(
the table, in a stentorian voice, and with a very impor-
tant air, " will you have the goodness to charge your
glasses ? I have a toast to propose."
" Hear ! hear!" cried the gentlemen, passing the de-
canters. After they had made the round of the table,
Mr. Budden proceeded — " Gentlemen ; there is an indi-
vidual present — "
" Hear ! hear ! " said the little man with red whis-
kers.
" Pray be quiet, Jones," remonstrated Budden.
" I say, gentlemen, there is an individual present,"
resumed the host, " in whose society, I am sure we must
take great delight — and — and—the conversation of that
individual must have afforded to every one present the
utmost pleasure." [" Thank Heaven, he does not mean
me !" thought Minns, conscious that his diffidence and
exclusiveness had prevented his saying above a dozen
words since he entered the house.] " Gentlemen, I am
but a humble individual myself, and I perhaps ought to
apologize for allowing any individual feelings of friend-
ship and affection for the person I allude to, to induce
me to venture to rise, to propose the health of that per-
son — a person that I am sure — that is to say, a person
whose virtues must endear him to those who know him
— and those who have not the pleasure of knowing him,
cannot dislike him."
" Hear ! hear! " said the company, in a tone of en-
couragement and approval.
" Gentlemen," continued Budden, " my cousin is a man
who — who is a relation of my own." (Hear! hear!)
Minns groaned audibly. " Who I am most happy to see
here, and who, if he were not here, would certainly have
MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN.
9b
deprived us of the great pleasure we all feel in seeing
him. (Loud cries of hear !) Gentlemen, I feel that I
have already trespassed on your attention for too long a
time. With every feeling — of — with every sentiment
of — of — "
" Gratification " — suggested the friend of the family.
" — Of gratification, I beg to propose the health of
Mr. Minns."
" Standing, gentlemen!" shouted the indefatigable little
man with the whiskers — " and with the honors. Take
your time from me, if you please. Hip ! hip ! hip ! —
Za! — Hip ! hip ! hip ! — Za! — Hip ! hip ! — Za — a
— a!"
All eyes were now fixed on the subject of the toast,
who by gulping down port-wine at the imminent hazard
of suffocation, endeavored to conceal his confusion.
After as long a pause as decency would admit, he rose,
but, as the newspapers sometimes say in their reports,
"we regret that we were quite unable to give even the sub-
stance of the honorable gentleman's observations." The
words " present company — honor — present occasion,"
and " great happiness " — heard occasionally, and repeat-
ed at intervals, with a countenance expressive of the
utmost confusion and misery, convinced the company that
he was making an excellent speech; and, accordingly,
on his resuming his seat, they cried " Bravo! " and mani-
fested tumultuous applause. Jones, who had been long
watching his opportunity, then darted up.
" Budden," said he, " will you allow me to propose a
toast ? "
" Certainly," replied Budden, adding in an undertone
to Minns right across the table. " Devilish sharp fellow
that: you'll be very much pleased with his speech. He
96
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
talks equally well on any subject." Minns bowed, and
Mr. Jones proceeded : —
" It has on several occasions, in various instances, un-
der many circumstances, and in different companies, fallen
to my lot to propose a toast to those by whom, at the
time, I have had the honor to be surrounded. I have
Bometimes, I will cheerfully own — for why should I
deny it ? — felt the overwhelming nature of the task I
have undertaken, and my own utter incapability to do
justice to the subject. If such have been my feelings,
however, on former occasions, what must they be now —
now — under the extraordinary circumstances in which
I am placed. (Hear! hear!) To describe my feelings
accurately, would be impossible; but I cannot give you
a better idea of them, gentlemen, than by referring to a
circumstance which happens, oddly enough, to occur to
my mind at the moment. On one occasion, when that
truly great and illustrious man, Sheridan, was — "
Now, there is no knowing what new villany in the
form of a joke would have been heaped on the grave of
that very ill-used man, Mr. Sheridan, if the boy in drab
had not at that moment entered the room in a breathless
state, to report that, as it was a very wet night, the nine
o'clock stage had come round, to know whether there
was anybody going to town, as, in that case, he (the nine
o clock) had room for one inside.
Mr. Minns started up ; and, despite countless exclamn-
lions of surprise, and entreaties to stay, persisted in his
determination to accept the vacant place. But the brown
silk umbrella was nowhere to be found ; and as the coach-
man couldn't wait, he drove back to the Swan, leaving
word for Mr. Minns to " run round" and catch him.
However, as it did not occur to Mr. Minns for some ten
SENTIMENT.
97
minutes or so, that he had left the brown silk umbrella
with the ivory handle in the other coach, coming down ;
and, moreover, as he was by no means remarkable for
speed, it is no matter of surprise that when he accom-
plished the feat of "running round" to the Swan, the
coach — the last coach — had gone without him.
It was somewhere about three o'clock in the morning,
when Mr. Augustus Minns knocked feebly at the street-
door of his lodgings in Tavistock Street, cold, wet, cross,
and miserable. He made his will next morning, and his
professional man informs us, in that strict confidence in
which we inform the public, that neither the name of Mr.
Octavius Budden, nor of Mrs. Amelia Budden, nor of
Master Alexander Augustus Budden, appears therein.
CHAPTER IH.
sentiment.
The Miss Crumptons, or to quote the authority of the
inscription on the garden-gate of Minerva House, Ham-
mersmith, " The Misses Crumpton," were two unusually
tall, particularly thin, and exceedingly skinny person-
ages; very upright, and very yellow. Miss Amelia
Crumpton owned to thirty - eight, and Miss Maria
Crumpton admitted she was forty; an admission which
was rendered perfectly unnecessary by tbe self-evident
fact of her being at least fifty. They dressed in the
most interesting manner — like twins ; and looked as
happy and comfortable as a couple of marigolds run to
VOL. II. 7
98
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
seed. They were very precise, had the strictest possible
ideas of propriety, wore false hair, and always smelt very
strongly of lavender.
Minerva House, conducted under the auspices of the
two sisters, was a .* finishing establishment for young
ladies, where some twenty girls of the ages of from thir-
teen to nineteen inclusive, acquired a smattering of
everything, and a knowledge of nothing; instruction in
French and Italian, dancing-lessons twice a week; and
other necessaries of life. The house was a white one, a
little removed from the roadside, with close palings in
front. The bedroom windows were always left partly
open, to afford a bird's-eye view of numerous little bed-
steads with very white dimity furniture, and thereby im-
press the passer-by with a due sense of the luxuries of
the establishment; and there was a front parlor hung
round with highly varnished maps which nobody ever
looked at, and filled with books which no one ever read,
appropriated exclusively to the reception of parents, who,
whenever they called, could not fail to be struck with the
very deep appearance of the place.
" Amelia, my dear," said Miss Maria Crumpton, enter-
ing the school-room one morning, with her false hair in
papers: as she occasionally did, in order to impress the
young ladies with a conviction of its reality. " Amelia,
my dear, here is a most gratifying note I have just re-
ceived. You needn't mind reading it aloud."
Miss Amelia, thus advised, proceeded to read the fol-
lowing note with an air of great triumph : —
" Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq., M. P., presents his
compliments to Miss Crumpton, and will feel much
obliged by Miss Crumpton's calling on him, if she con-
SENTIMENT.
99
veuiently can, to-inorrow morning at one o'clock, as Cor-
nelius Brook Dingwall, Esq., M. P., is anxious to see
Miss Crumpton on the subject of placing Miss Brook
Dingwall under her charge.
" Adelphi.
" Monday morning."
" A Member of Parliament's daughter! " ejaculated
Amelia, in an ecstatic tone.
"A Member of Parliament's daughter!" repeated Miss
Maria, with a smile of delight, which, of course, elicited
a concurrent titter of pleasure from all the young ladies.
" It's exceedingly delightful !" said Miss Amelia;
whereupon all the young ladies murmured their admira-
tion again. Courtiers are but school-boys, and court-
ladies school-girls.
So important an announcement at once superseded the
business of the day. A holiday was declared, in com-
memoration of the great event; the Miss Crumptons
retired to their private apartment to talk it over; the
smaller girls discussed the probable manners and customs
of the daughter of a Member of Parliament; and the
young ladies verging on eighteen wondered whether she
was engaged, whether she was pretty, whether she wore
much bustle, and many other whethers of equal impor-
tance.
The two Miss Crumptons proceeded to the Adelphi at
the appointed time next day, dressed, of course, in their
best style, and looking as amiable as they possibly could
— which, by the by, is not saying much for them. Hav-
ing sent in their cards, through the medium of a red-hot
looking footman in bright livery, they were ushered into
die august presence of the profound Dingwall.
100
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq., M. P., was very
haughty, solemn, and portentous. He had, naturally, a
Bomewhat spasmodic expression of countenance, which
was not rendered the less remarkable by his wearing an
extremely stiff cravat. He was wonderfully proud of
the M. P. attached to his name, and never lost an oppor-
tunity of reminding people of his dignity. He had a
great idea of his own abilities, which must have been a
great comfort to him, as no one else had; and in di-
plomacy, on a small scale, in his own family arrange-
ments, he considered himself unrivalled. He was a
county magistrate, and discharged the duties of his sta-
tion with all due justice and impartiality; frequently
committing poachers, and occasionally committing him-
self. Miss Brook Dingwall was one of that numerous
class of young ladies, who, like adverbs, may be known
by their answering to a commonplace question, and
doing nothing else.
On the present occasion, this talented individual was
seated in a small library at a table covered with papers,
doing nothing, but trying to look busy—playing at shop.
Acts of Parliament, and letters directed to " Cornelius
Brook Dingwall, Esq., M. P.," were ostentatiously scat-
tered over the table ; at a little distance from which,
Mrs. Brook Dingwall was seated at work. One of those
public nuisances, a spoiled child, was playing about the
room, dressed after the most approved fashion — in a
blue tunic with a black belt a quarter of a yard wide,
fastened with an immense buckle — looking like a robber
in a melodrama, seen through a diminishing glass.
After a little pleasantry from the sweet child, who
amused himself by running away with Miss Maria
Crumpton's chair as fast as it was placed for her, the
SENTIMENT.
101
visitors were seated, and Cornelius Brook Dingwall,
Esq., opened the conversation.
He had sent for Miss Crumpton, he said, in conse-
quence of the high character he had received of her
establishment from his friend Sir Alfred Muggs.
Miss Crumpton murmured her acknowledgments to
him (Muggs), and Cornelius proceeded.
"One of my principal reasons, Miss Crumpton, for
parting with my daughter, is, that she has lately ac-
quired some sentimental ideas, which it is most desirable
to eradicate from her young mind." (Here the little in-
nocent before noticed fell out of an arm-chair with an
awful crash.)
" Naughty boy!" said his mamma, who appeared more
surprised at his taking the liberty of falling down, than at
anything else; " I'll ring the bell for James to take him
away."
" Pray don't check him, my love," said the diplomatist,
as soon as he could make himself heard amidst the un-
earthly howling consequent upon the threat and the
tumble. " It all arises from his great flow of spirits."
This last explanation was addressed to Miss Crumpton.
" Certainly, sir," replied the antique Maria: not exactly
seeing, however, the connection between a flow of animal
spirits and a fall from an arm-chair.
Silence was restored, and the M. P. resumed : "Now,
I know nothing so likely to effect this object, Miss
Crumpton, as her mixing constantly in the society of
girls of her own age ; and, as I know that in your estab-
'ishment she will meet such as are not likely to contami--
nate her young mind, I propose to send her to you."
The youngest Miss Crumpton expressed the acknowl-
edgments of the establishment generally. Maria waa
102
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
rendered speechless by bodily pain. The dear little fel-
low, having recovered his animal spirits, was standing
upon her most tender foot, by way of getting his face
(which looked like a capital O in a red-lettered play-bill)
on a level with the writing-table.
•' Of course, Lavinia will be a parlor boarder," con-
tinued the enviable father; " and on one point I wish
my directions to be strictly observed. The fact is, that
some ridiculous love affair, with a person much her infe-
rior in life, has been the cause of her present state of
mind. Knowing that of course, under your care, she
ean have no opportunity of meeting this person, I do not
object to — indeed, I should rather prefer — her mixing
with such society as you see yourself."
This important statement was again interrupted by the
high-spirited little creature, in the excess of his joyous-
ness breaking a pane of glass, and nearly precipitating
himself into an adjacent area. James was rung for;
considerable confusion and screaming succeeded; two
little blue legs were seen to kick violently in the air as
the man left the room, and the child was gone.
" Mr. Brook Dingwall would like Miss Brook Ding-
wall to learn everything," said Mrs. Brook Dingwall,
who hardly ever said anything at all.
" Certainly," said both the Miss Crumptons together.
" And as I trust the plan I have devised will be effect-
ual in weaning my daughter from this absurd idea, Miss
Crumpton," continued the legislator, " I hope you will
have the goodness to comply, in all respects, with any
request I may forward to you."
The promise was of course made, and after a length-
ened discussion, conducted on behalf of the Dingwalls
with the most becoming diplomatic gravity, and on that
SENTIMENT.
108
uf the Crumptons with profound respect, it was finally
arranged that Miss Lavinia should be forwarded to
Hammersmith on the next day but one, on which occa-
sion the half-yearly hall given at the establishment was
to take place. It might divert the dear girl's mind.
This, by the way, was another bit of diplomacy.
Miss Lavinia was introduced to her future governess,
and both the Miss Crumptons pronounced her " a most
charming girl; " an opinion which, by a singular coinci-
dence, they always entertained of any new pupil.
Courtesies were exchanged, acknowledgments ex-
pressed, condescension exhibited, and the interview
terminated.
Preparations, to make use of theatrical phraseology,
" on a scale of magnitude never before attempted," were
incessantly made at Minerva House to give every effect
to the forthcoming ball. The largest room in the house
was pleasingly ornamented with blue calico roses, plaid
tulips, and other equally natural-looking artificial flowers,
the work of the young ladies themselves. The carpet
was taken up, the folding-doors were taken down, the
furniture was taken out, and rout-seats were taken in.
The linen-drapers of Hammersmith were astounded at
the sudden demand for blue sarsenet ribbon, and long
white gloves. Dozens of geraniums were purchased for
bouquets, and a harp and two violins were bespoke from
town, in addition to the grand piano already on the prem
ises. The young ladies who were selected to show off
on the occasion, and do credit to the establishment, prac-
tised incessantly, much to their own satisfaction, and
greatly to the annoyance of the lame old gentleman over
the way ; and a constant correspondence was kept up,
between the Misses Crumpten and the Hammersmith
pastrycook.
104
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
The evening came; and then there was such a lacing
of stays, and a tying of sandals, and dressing of hair, as
never can take place with a proper degree of bustle out
of a boarding-school. The smaller girls managed to be
in everybody's way, and were pushed about accordingly;
and the elder ones dressed, and tied, and flattered, and
envied, one another, as earnestly and sincerely as if they
had actually come out.
" How do I look, dear ? " inquired Miss Emily Smith-
ei-s, the belle of the house, of Miss Caroline Wilson, who
was her bosom friend, because she was the ugliest girl in
Hammersmith, or out of it.
" Oh! charming, dear. How do I ? "
" Delightful! you never looked so handsome," returned
the belle, adjusting her own dress, and not bestowing a
glance on her poor companion.
" I hope young Hilton will come early," said another
young lady to Miss somebody else, in a fever of expecta-
tion.
" I'm sure he'd be highly flattered if he knew it," re-
turned the other, who was practising Ike.
" Oh! he's so handsome," said the first.
" Such a charming person!" added a second.
" Such a distingue air ; " said a third.
" Oh, what do you think ? " said another girl, running
into the room ; " Miss Crumpton says her cousin's com-
ing."
" What! Theodosius Butler ?" said everybody in
raptures.
" Is he handsome ? " inquired a novice.
" No, not particularly handsome," was the general
reply; " but, oh, so clever ! "
Mr. Theodosius Butler was one of those immortal
SENTIMENT.
105
geniuses who are to be met with, in almost eveiy circle.
They have, usually, very deep monotonous voices. They
always persuade themselves that they are wonderful per-
sons, and that they ought to be very miserable, though
they don't precisely know why. They are very con-
ceited, and usually possess half an idea; but, with en-
tkusiastic young ladies, and silly young gentlemen, they
are very wonderful persons. The individual in question,
Mr. Theodosius, had written a pamphlet containing some
very weighty considerations on the expediency of doing
something or other; and as every sentence contained a
good many words of four syllables, his admirers took it
for granted that he meant a good deal.
" Perhaps that's he," exclaimed several young ladies,
as the first pull of the evening threatened destruction to
the bell of the gate.
An awful pause ensued. Some boxes arrived and a
young lady — Miss Brook Dingwall, in full ball cos-
tume, with an immense gold chain round her neck, and
her dress looped up with a single rose ; an ivory fan in
her hand, and a most interesting expression of despair in
her face.
The Miss Crumptons inquired after the family with
the most excruciating anxiety, and Miss Brook Dingwall
was formally introduced to her future companions. The
Miss Crumptons conversed with the young ladies in the
most mellifluous tones, in order that Miss Brook Ding-
wall might be properly impressed with their amiable
treatment.
Another pull at the bell. Mr. Dadson the writing
master, and his wife. The wife in green silk, with shoes
and cap-trimmings to correspond ; the writing-master in
a white waistcoat, black knee-shorts, and ditto silk stock-
106
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
ings, displaying a leg large enough for two writing-mas-
ters. The young ladies whispered one another, and the
writing-master and his wife flattered the Miss Crump-
tons, who were dressed in amber, with long sashes, like
dolls.
Repeated pulls at the bell, and arrivals too numerous
to particularize: papas and mammas, and aunts and un-
cles, the owners and guardians of the different pupils;
the singing-master, Signor Lobskini, in a black wig; the
piano-forte player and the violins ; the harp, in a state of
intoxication ; and some twenty young men, who stood
near the door, and talked "to one another, occasionally
bursting into a giggle. A general hum of conversation.
Coffee handed round, and plentifully partaken of by fat
mammas, who looked like the stout people who come on
in pantomimes for the sole purpose of being knocked
down.
The popular Mr. Hilton was the next arrival; and he
having, at the request of the Miss Crumptons, under-
taken the office of Master of the Ceremonies, the qua-
drilles commenced with considerable spirit. The young
men by the door gradually advanced into the middle of
the room, and in time became sufficiently at ease to con-
sent to be introduced to partners. The writing-master
danced every set, springing about with the most fearful
agility, and his wife played a rubber in the back-parlor
— a little room with five book-shelves, dignified by the
name of the study. Setting her down to whist was a
half-yearly piece of generalship on the part of the Miss
Crumptons ; it was necessary to hide her somewhere, on
account of her being a fright.
The interesting Lavinia Brook Dingwall was the only
girl present, who appeared to take no interest in the pro-
SENTIMENT.
107
oecdings of the evening. In vain was she solicited to
dance; in vain was the universal homage paid to her as
the daughter of a member of parliament. She was
equally unmoved by the splendid tenor of the inimitable
Lobskini, and the brilliant execution of Miss Laetitia
Parsons, whose performance of " The Recollections of
Ireland " was universally declared to be almost equal to
that of Moscheles himself. Not even the announcement
of the arrival of Mr. Theodosius Butler could induce her
to leave the corner of the back drawing-room in which
she was seated.
" Now, Theodosius," said Miss Maria Crumpton, after
that enlightened pamphleteer had nearly run the gaunt-
let of the whole company, " I must introduce you to our
new pupil.''
Theodosius looked as if he cared for nothing earthly.
" She's the daughter of a member of parliament," said
Maria. — Theodosius started.
" And her name is — ? " he inquired.
" Miss Brook Dingwall."
" Great Heaven !" poetically exclaimed Theodosius, in
a low tone.
Miss Crumpton commenced the introduction in due
form. Miss Brook Dingwall languidly raised her
head.
" Edward !" she exclaimed, with a half-shriek, on see-
ing the well-known nankeen legs.
Fortunately, as Miss Maria Crumpton possessed no
remarkable share of penetration, and as it was one of the
diplomatic arrangements that no attention was to be paid
to Miss Lavinia's incoherent exclamations, she was per-
fectly unconscious of the mutual agitation of the parties;
and therefore, seeing that the offer of his hand for the
108
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
next quadrille, was accepted, she left him by the side of
Miss Brook Dingwall.
" Oh, Edward !" exclaimed that most romantic of all
romantic young ladies, as the light of science seated
himself beside her, " Oh, Edward, is it you ? "
Mr. Theodosius assured the dear creature, in the most
impassioned manner, that he was not conscious of being
anybody but himself.
" Then why — why — this disguise ? Oh ! Edward
M'Neville Walter, what have I not suffered on your
account ? "
" Lavinia, hear me," replied the hero, in his most poetic
strain. " Do not condemn me, unheard. If anything
that emanates from the soul of such a wretch as I, can
occupy a place in your recollection — if any being, so
vile, deserve your notice —- you may remember that I
once published a pamphlet (and paid for its publication)
entitled ' Considerations on the Policy of Removing the
Duty on Beeswax.'"
" I do — I do !" sobbed Lavinia.
" That," continued the lover, " was a subject to which
your father was devoted heart and soul."
" He was — he was !" reiterated the sentimentalist.
" I knew it," continued Theodosius, tragically; " I
knew it — I forwarded him a copy. He wished to know
me. Could I disclose my real name ? Never! No, I
assumed that name which you have so often pronounced
in tones of endearment. As M'Neville Walter, I devoted
myself to the stirring cause ; as M'Neville Walter, I
gained your heart; in the same character I was ejected
from your house by your father's domestics; and in no
character at all have I since been enabled to see you.
We now meet again, and I proudly own that I am —
Theodosius Butler."
SENTIMENT.
109
The young lady appeared perfectly satisfied with this
argumentative address, and bestowed a look of the most
ardent affection on the immortal advocate of beeswax.
" May I hope," said he, " that the promise your father's
violent behavior interrupted, may be renewed ? "
" Let us join this set," replied Lavinia, coquettishly
— for girls of nineteen can coquet.
" No," ejaculated he of the nankeens; " I stir not from
this spot, writhing under this torture of suspense. May
I — may I — hope ? "
" You may."
" The promise is renewed ? "
"It is."
" I have your permission ? " .
" You have."
" To the fullest extent ? "
" You know it," returned the blushing Lavinia. The
contortions of the interesting Butler's visage expressed
his raptures.
We could dilate upon the occurrences that ensued.
How Mr. Theodosius and Miss Lavinia danced, and
talked, and sighed for the remainder of the evening —
how the Miss Crumptons were delighted thereat. How
the writing-master continued to frisk about with one-
horse power, and how his wife, from some unaccountable
freak, left the whist-table in the little back-parlor, and
persisted in displaying her green head-dress in the most
conspicuous part of the drawing-room. How the supper
consisted of small triangular sandwiches in trays, and a
tart here and there by way of variety; and how the visit-
ors consumed warm water disguised with lemon, and dotted
with nutmeg, under the denomination of negus. These,
and other matters of as much interest, however, we pass
UO SKETCHES BY BOZ.
over, for the purpose of describing a scene of even more
importance.
A fortnight after the date of the ball, Cornelius Brook
Dingwall, Esq., M. P., was seated at the same library
table, and in the same room, as we have before described.
He was alone, and his face bore an expression of deep
thought and solemn gravity — he was drawing up " A
Bill for the better observance of Easter Monday."
The footman tapped at the door — tjie legislator started
from his reverie, and " Miss Crumpton " was announced.
Permission was given for Miss Crumpton to enter the
sanctum ; Maria came sliding in, and having taken her
seat with a due portion of affectation, the footman retired,
and the governess was left alone with the M. P. Oh;
how she longed for the presence of a third party! Even
the facetious young gentleman would have been a relief.
Miss Crumpton began the duet. She hoped Mrs.
Brook Dingwall and the handsome little boy were in
good health.
They were. Mrs. Brook Dingwall and little Frederick
were at Brighton.
" Much obliged to you, Miss Crumpton," said Corne-
lius, in his most dignified manner, " for your attention in
calling this morning. I should have driven down to
Hammersmith, to see Lavinia, but your account was so
very satisfactory, and my duties in the House occupy me
so much, that I determined to postpone it for a week.
How has she gone on ? "
" Very well indeed, sir," returned Maria, dreading to
inform the father that she had gone off.
" Ah, I thought the plan on which I proceeded would
be a match for her."
Here was a favorable opportunity to say that some-
SENTIMENT.
Ill
body else had been a match for her. But the unfortunate
governess was unequal to the task.
" You have persevered strictly in the line of conduct
I prescribed, Miss Crumpton ?'"
" Strictly, sir."
" You tell me in your note that her spirits gradually
improved."
" Very much indeed, sir."
" To be sure. I was convinced they would."
ui " But I fear, sir," said Miss Crumpton, with visible
emotion, " I fear the plan has not succeeded quite so
well as we could have wished."
" No !" exclaimed the prophet " Bless me ! Miss
Crumpton, you look alarmed. What has happened ? "
" Miss Brook Dingwall, sir — "
" Yes, ma'am ? "
" Has gone, sir " — said Maria, exhibiting a strong in-
clination to faint.
"Gone!"
" Eloped, sir."
" Eloped ! — Who with — when — where — how ? "
almost shrieked the agitated diplomatist.
The natural yellow of the unfortunate Maria's face
changed to all the hues of the rainbow, as she laid a
small packet on the member's table.
He hurriedly opened it. A letter from his daughter,
and another from Theodosius. He glanced over their
contents — " Ere this reaches you, far distant — appeal
to feelings — love to distraction — beeswax — slavery,"
&c., &c. He dashed his hand to his forehead, and paced
the room with fearfully long strides, to the great alarm
of the precise Maria.
" Now mind ; from this time forward," said Mr. Brook
112
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Dingwall, suddenly stopping at the table, and beating
time upon it with his hand ; " from this time forward, I
never will, under any circumstances whatever, permit a
man who writes pamphlets to enter any ether room of
this house but the kitchen. — I'll allow my daughter and
her husband one hundred and fifty pounds a-year, and
never see their faces again ; and, damme! ma'am, I'll
bring in a bill for the abolition of finishing-schools !"
Some time has elapsed since this passionate declara-
tion. Mr. and Mrs. Butler are at present rusticating in
a small cottage at Ball's Pond, pleasantly situated in the
immediate vicinity of a brick-field. They have no
family. Mr. Theodosius looks very important, and
writes incessantly; but, in consequence of a gross com-
bination on the part of publishers, none of his produc-
tions appear in print. His young wife begins to think
that ideal misery is preferable to real unhappiness; and
that a marriage, contracted in haste, and repented at
leisure, is the cause of more substantial wretchedness
than she ever anticipated.
On cool reflection, Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq.,
M. P., was reluctantly compelled to admit that the un-
toward result of his admirable arrangements was attribu-
table, not to the Miss Crumptons, but his own diplomacy.
He however consoles himself, like some other small
diplomatists, by satisfactorily proving that if his plans
did not succeed, they ought to have done so. Minerva
House is in statu quo, and " The Misses Crumpton " re-
main in the peaceable and undisturbed enjoyment of all
the advantages resulting from their Finishing-School.
THE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE. 118
CHAPTER IV.
the tuggs's at ramsgate.
Once upon a time, there dwelt, in a narrow street on
(he Surrey side of the water, within three minutes' walk
of old London Bridge, Mr. Joseph Tuggs — a little
dark-faced man, with shiny hair, twinkling eyes, short
legs, and a body of very considerable thickness, measur-
ing from the centre button of his waistcoat in front, to
the ornamental buttons of his coat behind. The figure
of the amiable Mrs. Tuggs, if not perfectly symmetrical,
was decidedly comfortable; and the form of her only
daughter, the accomplished Miss Charlotte Tuggs, was
fast ripening into that state of luxuriant plumpness
which had enchanted the eyes, and captivated the heart,
of Mr. Joseph Tuggs in his earlier days. Mr. Simon
Tuggs, his only son, and Miss Charlotte Tuggs's only
brother, was as differently formed in body, as he was
differently constituted in mind, from the remainder of
his family. There was that elongation in his thoughtful
face, and that tendency to weakness in his interesting
legs, which tell so forcibly of a great mind and romantic
disposition. The slightest traits of character in such a
being possess no mean interest to speculative minds. He
usually appeared in public, in capacious shoes with
black cotton stockings ; and was observed to be particu-
larly attached to a black glazed stock, without tie or
ornament of any description.
There is, perhaps, no profession, however useful; no
VOL. II. 3
M4
SKETCHES BT BOZ.
pursuit, however meritorious; which can escape the
petty attacks of vulgar minds. Mr. Joseph Tuggs was
a grocer. It might be supposed that a grocer was be-
yond the breath of calumny; but no—the neighbors
stigmatized him as a chandler; and the poisonous voice
of envy distinctly asserted that he dispensed tea and
coffee by the quartern, retailed sugar by the ounce,
cheese by the slice, tobacco by the screw, and butter by
the pat. These taunts, however, were lost upon the
Tuggs's. Mr. Tuggs attended to the grocery depart-
ment; Mrs. Tuggs to the cheesemongery; and Miss
Tuggs to her education. Mr. Simon Tuggs kept his
father's books, and his own counsel.
One fine spring afternoon, the latter gentleman was
seated on a tub of weekly Dorset, behind the little red
desk with a wooden rail, which ornamented a corner of
the counter; when a stranger dismounted from a cab,
and hastily entered the shop. He was habited in black
cloth, and bore with him a green umbrella, and a blue
bag.
"Mr. Tuggs?" said the stranger, inquiringly.
"My name is Tuggs," replied Mr. Simon.
" It's the other Mr. Tuggs," said the stranger, looking
towards the glass door which led into the parlor behind
the shop, and on the inside of which, the round face of
Mr. Tuggs, senior, was distinctly visible, peeping over
the curtain.
Mr. Simon gracefully waved his pen, as if in intima-
tion of his wish that his father would advance. Mr.
Joseph Tuggs, with considerable celerity, removed his
face from the curtain, and placed it before the stranger.
"I come from the Temple," said the man with the
bag.
THE TDGGS'S AT RAMSGATE.
115
" From the Temple ! " said Mrs. Tuggs, flinging open
the door of the little parlor and disclosing Miss Tuggs
in perspective.
" From the Temple ! " said Miss Tuggs and Mr. Simon
Tuggs at the same moment.
" From the Temple!" said Mr. Joseph Tuggs, turn-
ing as pale as a Dutch cheese.
" From the Temple," repeated the man with the bag ;
" from Mr. Cower's, the solicitor's. Mr. Tuggs, I con-
gratulate you, sir. Ladies, I wish you joy of your pros-
perity! We have been successful." And the man with
the bag leisurely divested himself of his umbrella and
glove, as a preliminary to shaking hands with Mr. Joseph
Tuggs.
Now the words " we have been successful" had no
sooner issued from the mouth of the man with the bag,
than Mr. Simon Tuggs rose from the tub of weekly Dor-
set, opened his eyes very wide, gasped for breath, made
figures of eight in the air with his pen, and finally fell
into the arms of his anxious mother, and fainted away,
without the slightest ostensible cause or pretence.
"Water!" screamed Mrs. Tuggs.
" Look up, my son," exclaimed Mr. Tuggs.
" Simon ! dear Simon !" shrieked Miss Tuggs.
"I'm better now," said Mr. Simon Tuggs. "What!
successful!" And then, as corroborative evidence of
his being better, he fainted away again, and was borne
into the little parlor by the united efforts of the remain-
<lcr of the family, and the man with the bag.
To a casual spectator, or to any one unacquainted with
the position of the family, this fainting would have been
unaccountable. To those who understood the mission of
the man with the bag, and were moreover acquainted
116
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
with the excitability of the nerves of Mr. Simon Tuggs,
it was quite comprehensible. A long-pending lawsuit
respecting the validity of a will, had been unexpectedly
decided; and Mr. Joseph Tuggs was the possessor of
twenty thousand pounds.
A prolonged consultation took place that night, in the
little parlor — a consultation that was to settle the future
destinies of the Tuggs's. The shop was shut up at an
unusually early hour; and many were the unavailing
kicks bestowed upon the closed door by applicants for
quarterns of sugar, or half-quarterns of bread, or penn-
orths of pepper, which were to have been " left till Sat-
urday," but which fortune had decreed were to be left
alone altogether.
" We must certainly give up business," said Miss
Tuggs.
" Oh, decidedly," said Mrs. Tuggs.
" Simon shall go to the bar," said Mr. Joseph Tuggs.
" And I shall always sign myself ' Cymon ' in future,"
said his son.
" And I shall call myself Charlotta," said Miss Tuggs.
" And you must always call me ' Ma,' and father ' Pa,'"
said Mrs. Tuggs.
"Yes, and Pa must leave off all his vulgar habits,"
interposed Miss Tuggs.
"I'll take care of all that," responded Mr. Joseph
Tuggs, complacently. He was, at that very moment,
eating pickled salmon with a pocket-knife.
"We must leave town immediately," said Mr. Cymou
Tuggs.
Everybody concurred that this was an indispensable
preliminary to being genteel. The question then arose.
Where should they go ?
THE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE.
117
" Gravesend ? " mildly suggested Mr. Joseph Tuggs.
The idea was unanimously scouted. Gravesend was
low.
" Margate ? " insinuated Mrs. Tuggs. Worse and
worse — nobody there, but tradespeople.
" Brighton ? " Mr. Cymon Tuggs opposed an insur-
mountable objection. All the coaches had been upset,
in turn, within the last three weeks; each coach had
averaged two passengers killed, and six wounded; and,
in every case, the newspapers had distinctly understood
that " no blame whatever was attributable to the coach-
man."
" Ramsgate ?" ejaculated Mr. Cymon, thoughtfully.
To be sure: how stupid they must have been, not to
have thought of that before! Ramsgate was just the
place of all others.
Two months after this conversation, the City of Lon-
don Ramsgate steamer was running gayly down the
liver. Her flag was flying, her band was playing, her
passengers were conversing ; everything about her seemed
gay and lively. — No wonder — the Tuggs's were on
board.
" Charming, a'n't it ?" said Mr. Joseph Tuggs, in a
bottle-green great-coat, with a velvet collar of the same,
aud a blue travelling-cap with a gold band.
" Soul-inspiring," replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs — he was
entered at the bar. " Soul-inspiring ! "
" Delightful morning, sir!" said a stoutish, military-
looking gentleman in a blue surtout buttoned up to his
chin, and white trousers chained down to the soles of his
boots.
Mr. Cymon Tuggs took upon himself the responsi-
bility of answering the observation. " Heavenly ! " he
replied.
118 SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" You are an enthusiastic admirer of the beauties of
Nature, sir ? " said the military gentleman.
" I am, sir," replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs.
" Travelled much, sir ? " inquired the military gentle-
man.
" Not much," replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs.
"You've been on the continent, of course?" inquired
the military gentleman.
" Not exactly," replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs —in a quali-
fied tone, as if he wished it to be implied that he had
gone half-way and come back again.
" You of course intend your son to make the grand
tour, sir ? " said the military gentleman, addressing Mr.
Joseph Tuggs.
As Mr. Joseph Tuggs did not precisely understand
what the grand tour was, or how such an article was
manufactured, he replied, " Of course." Just as he said
the word, there came tripping up, from her seat at the
stern of the vessel, a young lady in a puce-colored silk
cloak, and boots of the same ; with long black ringlets,
large black eyes, brief petticoats, and unexceptionable
ankles.
" Walter, my dear," said the young lady to the military
gentleman.
" Yes, Belinda, my love," responded the military gen-
tleman to the black-eyed young lady.
" What have you left me alone so long for ? " said the
young lady. " I have been stared out of countenance by
those rude young men."
" What! stared at ? " exclaimed the military gentle-
man, with an emphasis which made Mr. Cymon Tuggs
withdraw his eyes from the young lady's face with incon-
ceivable rapidity. " Which young men —• where ? " and
fHE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE. 119
the military gentleman clenched his fist, and glared fear-
fully on the cigar-smokers around.
" Be calm, Walter, I entreat," said the young lady.
" I won't," said the military gentleman.
" Do, sir," interposed Mr. Cymon Tuggs. " They a'n't
worth your notice."
" No — no — they are not, indeed," urged the young
lady.
" I will be calm," said the military gentleman. " You
speak truly, sir. I thank you for a timely remonstrance,
which may have spared me the guilt of manslaughter."
Calming his wrath, the military gentleman wrung Mr.
Cymon Tuggs by the hand.
" My sister, sir!" said Mr. Cymon Tuggs ; seeing that
the military gentleman was casting an admiring look
towards Miss Charlotta.
" My wife, ma'am — Mrs. Captain Waters," said the
military gentleman, presenting the black-eyed young
lady.
" My mother, ma'am — Mrs. Tuggs," said Mr. Cymon.
The military gentleman and his wife murmured enchant-
ing courtesies ; and the Tuggs's looked as unembarrassed
as they could.
" Walter, my dear," said the black-eyed young lady,
after they had sat chatting with the Tuggs's some half
hour.
" Yes, my love," said the military gentleman.
" Don't you think this gentleman (with an inclination
of the head towards Mr. Cymon Tuggs) is very much
like the Marquis Carriwini ?"
" Lord bless me, very ! " said the military gentleman.
" It struck me, the moment I saw him," said the young
lady, gazing intently, and with a melancholy air, on the
120
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
scarlet countenance of Mr. Cymon Tuggs. Mr. Cymon
Tuggs looked at everybody ; and finding that everybody
was looking at him, appeared to feel some temporary
difficulty in disposing of his eyesight.
" So exactly the air of the marquis," said the military
gentleman.
" Quite extraordinary!" sighed the military gentle-
man's lady.
" You don't know the marquis, sir ? " inquired the mili-
tary gentleman.
Mr. Cymon Tuggs stammered a negative.
" If you did," continued Captain Walter Waters, "you
would feel how much reason you have to be proud of the
resemblance — a most elegant man, with a most prepos-
sessing appearance."
" He is — he is indeed !" exclaimed Belinda Waters
energetically. As her eye caught that of Mr. Cymon
Tuggs, she withdrew it from his features in bashful con-
fusion.
All this was highly gratifying to the feelings of the
Tuggs's ; and when, in the course of farther conversa-
tion, it was discovered that Miss Charlotta Tuggs was the
facsimile of a titled relative of Mrs. Belinda Waters,
and that Mrs. Tuggs herself was the very picture of the
Dowager Duchess of Dobbleton, their delight in the
acquisition of so genteel and friendly an acquaintance
knew no bounds. Even the dignity of Captain Walter
Waters relaxed, to that degree, that he suffered himself
to be prevailed upon by Mr. Joseph Tuggs to partake
of cold pigeon-pie and sherry, on deck ; and a most de-
lightful conversation, aided by these agreeable stimu-
lants, was prolonged, until they ran alongside Ramsgate
Pier.
THE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE. 121
u Good by'e, dear! " said Mrs. Captain Waters to Miss
Charlotta Tuggs, just before the bustle of landing com-
menced ; we shall see you on the sands in the morning ;
and, as we are sure to have found lodgings before then,
I hope we shall be inseparables for many weeks to
come."
" Oh ! I hope so," said Miss Charlotta Tuggs, em-
phatically.
" Tickets, ladies and gen'lm'n," said the man on the
paddle-box.
" Want a porter, sir ? " inquired a dozen men in smock-
frocks.
" Now, my dear!" said Captain Waters.
" Good by'e !" said Mrs. Captain Waters — " good
by'e, Mr. Cymon!" and with a pressure of the hand
which threw the amiable young man's nerves into a state
of considerable derangement, Mrs. Captain Waters dis-
appeared among the crowd. A pair of puce-colored
boots were seen ascending the steps, a white handker-
chief fluttered, a black eye gleamed. The Waters's
were gone, and Mr. Cymon Tuggs was alone in a heart-
less world.
Silently and abstractedly did that too sensitive youth
follow his revered parents, and a train of smock-frocks
and wheel-barrows, along the pier, until the bustle of the
scene around, recalled him to himself. The sun was
shining brightly ; the sea, dancing to its own music,
rolled merrily in ; crowds of people promenaded to and
fro; young ladies tittered; old ladies talked; nurse-
maids displayed their charms to the greatest possible
advantage ; and their little charges ran up and down,
and to and fro, and in and out, under the feet,, and be-
tween the legs, of the assembled ooncourse, in the most
122
SKETCHES BT BOZ.
playful and exhilarating manner. There were old gen-
tlemen, trying to make out objects through long tele-
scopes ; and young ones, making objects of themselves In
open shirt-collars ; ladies, carrying about portable chairs,
and portable chairs carrying about invalids; parties,
waiting on the pier for parties who had come by the
steamboat; and nothing was to be heard but talking,
laughing, welcoming, and merriment.
" Fly, sir ? " exclaimed a chorus of fourteen men and
six boys, the moment Mr. Joseph Tuggs, at the head of
his little party, set foot in the street.
" Here's the gen'lm'n at last!" said one, touching his
hat with mock politeness. " Werry glad to see you, sir,
— been a-waitin' for you these six weeks. Jump in, if
you please, sir!"
" Nice light fly and a fast trotter, sir," said another:
" fourteen mile a hour, and surroundin' objects rendered
inv isible by ex-treme welocity ! "
" Large fly for your luggage, sir," cried a third.
" "Werry large fly here, sir — reg'lar bluebottle ! "
" Here's your fly, sir! " shouted another aspiring char-
ioteer, mounting the box, and inducing an old gray horse
to indulge in some perfect reminiscences of a canter.
" Look at him, sir ! — temper of a lamb and haction of a
steam-ingein!"
Resisting even the temptation of securing the services
of so valuable a quadruped as the last-named, Mr. Joseph
Tuggs beckoned to the proprietor of a dingy conveyance
of a greenish hue, lined with faded striped calico; and,
the luggage and the family having been deposited therein,
the animal in the shafts, after describing circles in the
road for a quarter of an hour, at last consented to
depart in quest of lodgings.
THE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE.
123
u How many beds have you got ?" screamed Mrs.
Tuggs out of the fly, to the woman who opened the door
of the first house which displayed a bill intimating that
apartments were to be let within.
" How many did you want, ma'am ? " was, of course,
the reply.
" Three."
" Will you step in, ma'am ? " Down got Mrs. Tuggs.
The family were delighted. Splendid view of the sea
from the front windows — charming ! A short pause.
Back came Mrs. Tuggs again.— One parlor and a mat-
tress.
" Why the devil didn't they say so at first ? " inquired
Mr. Joseph Tuggs, rather pettishly.
" Don't know," said Mrs. Tuggs.
" Wretches !" exclaimed the nervous Cymon. An-
other bill — another stoppage. Same question — same
answer — similar result.
" What do they mean by this ? " inquired Mr. Joseph
Tuggs, thoroughly out of temper.
" Don't know," said the placid Mrs. Tuggs.
" Orvis the vay here, sir," said the driver, by way of
accounting for the circumstance in a satisfactory manner;
and off they went again, to make fresh inquiries, and
encounter fresh disappointments.
It had grown dusk when the " fly" — the rate of
whose progress greatly belied its name — after climbing
up four or five perpendicular hills, stopped before the
door of a dusty house, with a bay-window, from which
you could obtain a beautiful glimpse of the sea — if you
thrust half your body out of it, at the imminent peril of
falling into the area. Mrs. Tuggs alighted. One ground-
floor sitting-room, and three cells with beds in them up-
124
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
stairs. A double house. Family on the opposite side.
Five children milk-and-watering in the parlor, and one
little boy, expelled for bad behavior, screaming on his
back in the passage.
" What's the terms ? " said Mrs. Tuggs. The mistress
of the house was considering the expediency of putting
on an extra guinea; so, she coughed slightly, and affected
not to hear the question.
" What's the terms ?" said Mrs. Tuggs, in a louder
key.
" Five guineas a week, ma'am, with attendance," re-
plied the lodging-house keeper. (Attendance means the
privilege of ringing the bell as often as you like, for your
own amusement.)
" Rather dear," said Mrs. Tuggs.
" Oh dear, no, ma'am !" replied the mistress of the
house, with a benign smile of pity at the ignorance of
manners and customs, which the observation betrayed.
" Very cheap ! "
Such an authority was indisputable. Mrs. Tuggs paid
a week's rent in advance, and took the lodgings for a
month. In an hour's time, the family were seated at tea
in their new abode.
" Capital srimps ! " said Mr. Joseph Tuggs.
Mr. Cymon eyed his father with a rebellious scowl, as
he emphatically said •' Shrimps."
" Well then, shrimps," said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. " Srimps
or shrimps, don't much matter."
There was pity, blended with malignity, in Mr. Cy-
mon's eye, as he replied, " Don't matter, father! What
would Captain Waters say, if he heard such vulgar-
ity ?"
" Or what would dear Mrs. Captain Waters say," added
THE TUGGS'S AT KAMSGATE.
125
Charlotta, " if she saw mother — ma, I mean — eating
them whole, heads and all! "
" It won't bear thinking of! " ejaculated Mr. Cymon,
with a shudder. " How different," he thought, " from the
Dowager Duchess of Dobbleton !"
" Very pretty woman, Mrs. Captain Waters, is she not,
Cymon?" inquired Miss Charlotta.
A glow of nervous excitement passed over the coun-
tenance of Mr. Cymon Tuggs, as he replied, " An Mangel
of beauty! "
" Hallo ! " said Mr. Joseph Tuggs, " Hallo, Cymon,
my boy, take care. Married lady you know;" and he
winked one of his twinkling eyes knowingly.
" Why," exclaimed Cymon, starting up with an ebulli-
tion of fury, as unexpected as alarming, " Why am I to
be reminded of that blight of my happiness, and ruin of
my hopes ? Why am I to be taunted with the miseries
which are heaped upon my head ? Is it not enough to
— to — to," and the orator paused ; but whether for
want of words, or lack of breath, was never distinctly
ascertained.
There was an impressive solemnity in the tone of this
address, and in the air with which the romantic Cymon,
at its conclusion, rang the bell, and demanded a flat can-
dlestick, which effectually forbade a reply. He stalked
dramatically to bed, and the Tuggs's went to bed too,
half an hour afterwards, in a state of considerable mys-
tification and perplexity.
If the pier had presented a scene of life and bustle to
the Tuggs's on their first landing at Ramsgate, it was far
surpassed by the appearance of the sands on the morning
after their arrival. It was a fine, bright, clear day, with
a light breeze from the sea. There were the same ladies
126
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
and gentlemen, the same children, the same nursemaids,
the same telescopes, the same portable chairs. The
ladies were employed in needlework, or watchguard
making, or knitting, or reading novels ; the gentlemen
were reading newspapers and magazines; the children
were digging holes in the sand with wooden spades, and
collecting water therein ; the nursemaids, with their
youngest charges in their arms, were running in after
the wfcves, and then running back with the waves after
them ; and, now and then, a little sailing-boat either de-
parted with a gay and talkative cargo of passengers, or
returned with a very silent, and particularly uncomfort-
able-looking one.
"Well, I never!" exclaimed Mrs. Tuggs, as she and
Mr. Joseph Tuggs, and Miss Charlotta Tuggs, and Mr.
Cymon Tuggs, with their eight feet in a corresponding
number of yellow shoes, seated themselves on four rush-
bottomed chairs, which, being placed in a soft part of the
sand, forthwith sunk down some two feet and a half. —
" Well, I never! "
Mr. Cymon, by an exertion of great personal strength,
uprooted the chairs, and removed them further back.
"Why, I'm bless'd if there a'n't some ladies agoing
in !" exclaimed Mr. Joseph Tuggs, with intense aston-
isbment.
" Lor, pa ! " exclaimed Miss Charlotta.
" There is, my dear," said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. And,
sure enough, four young ladies, each furnished with a
towel, tripped up the steps of a bathing-machine. In
went the horse, floundering about in the water; round
jurned the machine ; down sat the driver; and presently
out burst the young ladies aforesaid, with four distinct
splashes.
THE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE.
127
" Well, that's sing'ler, too !" ejaculated Mr. Joseph
Tuggs, after an awkward pause. Mr. Cymon coughed
Blightly.
" Why, here's some gentlemen agoing in on this side,"
exclaimed Mrs. Tuggs, in a tone of horror.
Three machines — three horses — three flounderings
— three turnings round — three splashes — three gen-
tlemen, disporting themselves in the water like so many
dolphins.
" Well, that's sing'ler ! " said Mr. Joseph Tuggs again.
Miss Charlotta coughed this time, and another pause
ensued. It was agreeably broken.
" How d'ye do, dear ? We have been looking for you,
all the morning," said a voice to Miss Charlotta Tuggs.
Mrs. Captain Waters was the owner of it.
"How d'ye do?" said Captain Walter Waters, all
suavity; and a most cordial interchange of greetings
ensued.
" Belinda, my love," said Captain Walter Waters, ap-
plying his glass to his eye, and looking in the direction
of the sea.
" Yes, my dear," replied Mrs. Captain Waters.
" There's Harry Thompson ! "
" Where ? " said Belinda, applying her glass to her
eye.
" Bathing."
, " Lor, so it is! He don't see us, does he ? "
"No, I don't think he does," replied the captain.
Bless my soul, how very singular!"
" What ? " inquired Belinda.
" There's Mary Golding, too."
" Lor ! — where ? " (Up went the glass again.)
" There '." said the captain, pointing to one of the
128
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
young ladies before noticed, who, in her bathing costume,
looked as if she was enveloped in a patent Mackintosh,
of scanty dimensions.
" So it is, I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Captain Waters.
" How very curious we should see them both ! "
" Very," said the captain, with perfect coolness.
" It's the reg'lar thing here, you see," whispered Mr.
Cymon Tuggs to his father.
" I see it is," whispered Mr. Joseph Tuggs in reply.
" Queer though — a'n't it ? " Mr. Cymon Tuggs nodded
assent.
" What do you think of doing with yourself this
morning ? " inquired the captain. " Shall we lunch at
Pegwell ? "
" I should like that very much indeed," interposed
Mrs. Tuggs. She had never heard of Pegwell; but the
word " lunch " had reached her ears, and it sounded very
agreeably.
" How shall we go ?" inquired the captain ; " it's too
warm to walk."
"A shay?" suggested Mr. Joseph Tuggs.
" Chaise," whispered Mr. Cymon.
"I should think one would-be enough," said Mr. Joseph
Tuggs aloud, quite unconscious of the meaning of the
correction. " However, two shays if you like."
" I should like a donkey so much," said Belinda.
" Oh, so should I! " echoed Charlotta Tuggs.
" Well, we can have a fly," suggested the captain,
" and you can have a couple of donkeys."
A fresh difficulty arose. Mrs. Captain Waters de-
clared it would be decidedly improper for two ladies to
ride alone. The remedy was obvious. Perhaps young
Mr. Tuggs would be gallant enough to accompany them.
THE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE. 129
Mr. Cymon Tuggs blushed, smiled, looked vacant, and
faintly protested that he was no horseman. The objec-
tion was at once overruled. A fly was speedily found ;
and three donkeys — which the proprietor declared on
his solemn asseveration to be " three parts blood, and the
other corn " — were engaged in the service.
" Kim up !" shouted one of the two boys who followed
behind, to propel the donkeys, when Belinda "Waters and
Charlotta Tuggs had been hoisted, and pushed, and pulled,
into their respective saddles.
" Hi — hi — hi! " groaned the other boy behind Mr.
Cymon Tuggs. Away went the donkey, with the stir-
rups jingling against the heels of Cymon's boots, and
Cymon's boots nearly scraping the ground.
" Way — way ! Wo—o—o—o—! " cried Mr. Cymon
Tuggs as well as he could, in the midst of the jolting.
" Don't make it gallop ! " screamed Mrs. Captain
Waters, behind.
" My donkey will go into the public-house ! " shrieked
Miss Tuggs in the rear.
"Hi — hi — hi!" groaned both the boys together;
and on went the donkeys as if nothing would ever stop
them.
Everything has an end, however: even the galloping
of donkeys will cease in time. The animal which Mr.
Cyinon Tuggs bestrode, feeling sundry uncomfortable
tugs at the bit, the intent of which lie could by no means
divine, abruptly sidled against a brick wall, and expressed
his uneasiness by grinding Mr. Cymon Tuggs's leg on the
rough surface. Mrs. Captain Waters'® donkey, appar-
ently under the influence of some playfulness of spirit,
rushed suddenly, head first, into a hedge, and declined
*.o come out again: and the quadruped on which Miss
VOL. II. 9
ISO
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Tuggs was mounted, expressed his delight at this humor-
ous proceeding by firmly planting his fore-feet against
the ground, and kicking up his hind-legs in a very agile,
but somewhat alarmug manner.
This abrupt termination to the rapidity of the ride,
naturally occasioned some confusion. Both the ladies
indulged in vehement screaming for several minutes;
and Mr. Cymon Tuggs, besides sustaining intense bodily
pain, had the additional mental anguish of witnessing
their distressing situation, without having the power to
rescue them, by reason of his leg being firmly screwed
in between the animal and the wall. The efforts of the
boys, however, assisted by the ingenious expedient of
twisting the tail of the most rebellious donkey, restored
order in a much shorter time than could have reasonably
been expected, and the little party jogged slowly on
together.
" Now let 'em walk," said Mr. Cymon Tuggs. " It's
cruel to overdrive 'em."
" Werry well, sir," replied the boy, with a grin at his
companion, as if he understood Mr. Cymon to mean that
the cruelty applied less to the animals than to their
riders.
" What a lovely day, dear! " said Charlotta.
" Charming ; enchanting, dear !" responded Mrs.
Captain Waters. " What a beautiful prospect, Mr.
Tuggs!"
Cymon looked full in Belinda's face, as he responded
— " Beautiful, indeed ! " The lady cast down her eyes,
and suffered the animal she was riding to fall a little
Dack. Cymon Tuggs instinctively did the same.
There was a brief silence, broken only by a sigh from
Mr. Cymon Tuggs.
THE TGGGS'S AT BAMSGATE.
132
" Mr. Cymon," said the lady suddenly, in a low tone,
" Mr. Cymon — I am another's."
Mr. Cymon expressed his perfect concurrence in a
statement which it was impossible to controvert.
" If I had not been — " resumed Belinda ; and there
she stopped.
" What — what ? " said Mr. Cymon, earnestly. " Do
not torture me. What would you say ? "
" If I had not been " — continued Mrs. Captain Waters
— " if, in earlier life, it had been my fate to have known,
and been beloved by, a noble youth — a kindred soul —
a congenial spirit — one capable of feeling and appre-
dating the sentiments which — "
" Heavens ! what do I hear ? " exclaimed Mr. Cymon
Tuggs. " Is it possible ! can I believe my — Come up!"
(This last unsentimental parenthesis was addressed to the
donkey, who with his head between his fore-legs, ap-
peared to be examining the state of his shoes with great
anxiety.)
" Hi — hi — hi," said the boys behind. " Come up,"
expostulated Cymon Tuggs again. " Hi — hi — hi! "
repeated the boys again. And whether it was that the
animal felt indignant at the tone of Mr. Tuggs's com-
mand, or felt alarmed by the noise of the deputy pro-
prietor's boots running behind him ; or whether he burned
with a noble emulation to outstrip the other donkeys;
certain it is that he no sooner heard the second series of
' hi — hi's," than he started away, with a celerity of pace
which jerked Mr. Cymon's hat off, instantaneously, and
tarried him to the Pegwell Bay hotel in no time, where
he deposited his rider without giving him the trouble of
dismounting, by sagaciously pitching him over his head
into the very doorway of the tavern.
132
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Great was the confusion of Mr. Cymon Tuggs, when
he was put right end uppermost by two waiters ; consid-
erable was the alarm of Mrs. Tuggs in behalf of her
son ; agonizing were the apprehensions of Mrs. Captain
Waters on his account. It was speedily discovered,
however, that he had not sustained much more injury
than the donkey — he was grazed, and the animal was
grazing — and then it was a delightful party to be sure!
Mr. and Mrs. Tuggs, and the captain, had ordered lunch
in the little garden behind: — small saucers of large
shrimps, dabs of butter, crusty loaves, and bottled ale.
The sky was without a cloud; there were flower-pots
and turf before them ; the sea, from the foot of the cliff,
stretching away as far as the eye could discern anything
at all; vessels in the distance, with sails as white and
as small as nicely got-up cambric handkerchiefs. The
shrimps were delightful, the ale better, and the captain
even more pleasant than either. Mrs. Captain Waters
was in such spirits after lunch ! — chasing, first the cap-
tain across the turf, and among the flower-pots ; and
then Mr. Cymon Tuggs ; and then Miss Tuggs ; and
laughing, too, quite boisterously. But as the captain
said, it didn't matter ; who knew what they were, there ?
For all the people of the house knew, they might be
common people. To which Mr. Joseph Tuggs responded,
" To be sure." And then they went down the steep
wooden steps a little further on, which led to the bottom
of the cliff; and looked at the crabs, and the seaweed,
and the eels, till it was more than fully time to go back
to Ramsgate again. Finally, Mr. Cymon Tuggs as-
cended the steps last, and Mrs. Captain Waters last but
one ; and Mr. Cymon Tuggs discovered that the foot
THE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE.
133
and ankle of Mrs. Captain Waters were even more un-
exceptionable than he had at first supposed.
Taking a donkey towards his ordinary place of resi-
dence, is a very different thing, and a feat much more easily
to be accomplished, than taking him from it. It requires
a great deal of foresight and presence of mind in the
one case, to anticipate the numerous flights of his discur-
sive imagination ; whereas, in the other, all you have to
do, is, to hold on, and place a blind .confidence in the
animal. Mr. Cymon Tuggs adopted the latter expedient
on his return ; and his nerves were so little discomposed
by the journey, that he distinctly understood they were
all to meet again at the library in the evening.
The library was crowded. There were the same
ladies, and the same gentlemen, who had been on the
sands in the morning, and on the pier the day before.
There were young ladies, in maroon-colored gowns and
black velvet bracelets, dispensing fancy articles in the
shop, and presiding over games of chance in the concert-
room. There were marriageable daughters, and mar-
riage-making mammas, gaming and promenading, and
turning over music, and flirting. There were some male
beaux doing the sentimental in whispers, and others
doing the ferocious in moustache. There were Mrs. Tuggs
in amber, Miss Tuggs in sky-blue, Mrs. Captain Waters in
pink. There was Captain Waters in a braided surtout ;
there was Mr. Cymon Tuggs in pumps and a gilt waist-
coat; there was Mr. Joseph Tuggs in a blue coat, and a
shirt-frill.
" Numbers three, eight, and eleven!" cried one of the
young ladies in the maroon-colored gowns.
" Numbers three, eight, and eleven !" echoed another
young lady in the same uniform.
184
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Number three's gone," said the first young lady.
"Numbers eight aud eleven!"
" Numbers eight and eleven !" echoed the second
young lady.
" Number eight's gone, Mary Ann," said the first
young lady.
" Number eleven !" screamed the second.
" The numbers are all taken now, ladies, if you please,"
said the first. The representatives of numbers three,
eight, and eleven, and the rest of the numbers, crowded
round the table.
" Will you throw, ma'am ? " said the presiding goddess,
handing the dice-box to the eldest daughter of a stout
lady, with four girls.
There was a profound silence among the lookers-on.
" Throw, Jane, my dear," said the stout lady. An in-
teresting display of bashfulness — a little blushing in a
cambric handkerchief — a whispering to a younger sister.
"Amelia, my dear, throw for your sister," said tne
stout lady ; and then she turned to a walking advertise-
ment of Rowland's Macassar Oil, who stood next her,
and said, " Jane is so very modest and retiring; but 1
can't be angry with her for it. An artless and unsophis-
ticated girl is so truly amiable, that I often wish Amelia
was more like her sister ! "
The gentleman with the whiskers whispered his ad-
miring approval.
" Now, my dear !" said the stout lady. Miss Amelia
threw — eight for her sister, ten for herself.
" Nice figure, Amelia," whispered the stout lady, to a
thin youth beside her.
"Beautiful!"
" And such a spirit! I am like you in that respect. I
THE TDGGS'S AT RAMSGATE.
136
can not help admiring that life and vivacity. Ah! (a
sigh) I wish I could make poor Jane a little more like
my dear Amelia ! "
The young gentleman cordially acquiesced in the sen-
timent; both he, and the individual first addressed, were
perfectly contented.
" Who's this ?" inquired Mr. Cymon Tuggs of Mrs.
Captain Waters, as a short female, in a blue velvet hat
and feathers, was led into the orchestra, by a fat man in
black tights, and cloudy Berlins.
" Mrs. Tippin, of the London theatres," replied Be-
linda, referring to the programme of the concert.
The talented Tippin having condescendingly acknowl-
edged the clapping of hands, and shouts of " bravo!"
which greeted her appearance, proceeded to sing the
popular cavatina of " Bid me discourse," accompanied on
the piano by Mr. Tippin ; after which, Mr. Tippin sang
a comic song, accompanied on the piano by Mrs. Tippin :
the applause consequent upon which was only to be ex-
ceeded by the enthusiastic approbation bestowed upon an
air with variations on the guitar, by Miss Tippin, accom-
panied on the chin by Master Tippin.
Thus passed the evening; thus passed the days and
evenings of the Tuggs's, and the Waters's, for six weeks.
Sands in the morning — donkeys at noon —■ pier in the
afternoon — library at night — and the same people
everywhere.
On that very night six weeks, the moon was shining
brightly over the calm sea, which dashed against the feet
of the tall gaunt cliffs, with just enough noise to lull the
old fish to sleep, without disturbing the young ones, when
two figures were discernible — or would have been, if
anybody had looked for them — seated on one of the
136
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
wooden benches which are stationed near the verge of
the western cliff. The moon had climbed higher into
the heavens, by two hours' journeying, since those figures
first sat down — and yet they had moved not. The
crowd of loungers had thinned and dispersed; the noise
of itinerant musicians had died away ; light after light
had appeared in the windows of the different houses in
the distance; blockade-man after blockade-man had
passed the spot, wending his way towards his solitary
post; and yet those figures had remained stationary.
Some portions of the two forms were in deep shadow,
but the light of the moon fell strongly on a puce-colored
boot and a glazed stock. Mr. Cymon Tuggs, and Mrs.
Captain Waters, were seated on that bench. They spoke
not, but were silently gazing on the sea.
"Walter will return to-morrow," said Mrs. Captain
Waters, mournfully breaking silence.
Mr. Cymon Tuggs sighed like a gust of wind through
a forest of gooseberry bushes, as he replied, " Alas he
wiU."
" Oh, Cymon !" resumed Belinda, " the chaste delight,
the calm happiness, of this one week of Platonic love, is
too much for me! "
Cymon was about to suggest that it was too little for
him, but he stopped himself, and murmured unintel-
ligibly.
" And to think that even this glimpse of happiness,
innocent as it is," exclaimed Belinda, " is now to be lost
for ever!"
" Oh, do not say for ever, Belinda," exclaimed the ex-
citable Cymon, as two strongly defined tears chased each
other down his pale face — it was so long that there was
plenty of room for a chase — " Do not say for ever ! "
THE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE.
J87
u 1 must," replied Belinda.
" Why ? " urged Cymon, " oh why ? Such Platonic
acquaintance as ours is so harmless, that even your hus-
band can never object to it."
" My husband ! " exclaimed Belinda. " You little
know him. Jealous and revengeful ; ferocious in his
revenge — a maniac in his jealousy! Would you be
assassinated before my eyes P " Mr. Cymon Tuggs, in a
voice broken by emotion, expressed his disinclination to
undergo the process of assassination before the eyes of
anybody.
"Then leave me," said Mrs. Captain Waters. " Leave
me, this night, for ever. It is late ; let us return."
Mr. Cymon Tuggs sadly offered the lady his arm, and
escorted her to her lodgings. He paused at the door —
he felt a Platonic pressure of his hand. " Good night,"
he said, hesitating.
" Good night," sobbed the lady. Mr. Cymon Tuggs
paused again.
"Won't you walk in, sir?" said the servant. Mr.
Tuggs hesitated. Oh, that hesitation ! He did walk
in.
" Good night!" said Mr. Cymon Tuggs again, when he
reached the drawing-room.
" Good night! " replied Belinda ; " and, if at any
period of my life, I — Hush ! " The lady paused and
stared, with a steady gaze of horror, on the ashy coun-
tenanee of Mr. Cymon Tuggs. There was a double
knock at the street-door.
" It is my husband !" said Belinda, as the captain's
voice was heard below.
" And my family ! " added Cymon Tuggs, as the voices
of his relatives floated up the staircase.
138
SKETCHES BY BOZ
" The curtain ! The curtain ! " gasped Mrs. Captain
Waters, pointing to the window, before which some
chintz hangings were closely drawn.
" But I have done nothing wrong," said the hesitating
Cymon.
" The curtain ! " reiterated the frantic lady: " you
will be murdered." This last appeal to his feelings
was irresistible. The dismayed Cymon concealed
himself behind the curtain, with pantomimic sudden-
ness.
Enter the captain, Joseph Tuggs, Mrs. Tuggs, and
Charlotta.
" My dear," said the captain, " Lieutenant Slaughter."
Two iron-shod boots and one gruff voice were heard by
Mr. Cymon to advance, and acknowledge the honor of
the introduction. The sabre of the lieutenant rattled
heavily upon the floor, as he seated himself at the table.
Mr. Cymon's fears almost overcame his reason.
" The brandy, my dear! " said the captain. Here was
a situation! They were going to make a night of it!
And Mr. Cymon Tuggs was pent up behind the curtain
and afraid to breathe !
" Slaughter," said the captain, " a cigar ? "
Now, Mr. Cymon Tuggs never could smoke, without
feeling it indispensably necessary to retire, immediately,
and never could smell smoke without a strong disposition
to cough. The cigars were introduced ; the captain was
a professed smoker; so was the lieutenant; so was Joseph
Tuggs. The apartment was small, the door wi\s closed,
the smoke powerful; it hung in heavy wreaths over the
room, and at length found its way behind the curtain.
Cymon Tuggs held his nose, his mouth, his breath. It
was all of no use — out came the cough.
THE TUGGS'S AT KAMSGATE- 189
" Bless my soul! " said the captain, " I beg your par-
don, Miss Tuggs. You dislike smoking?"
" Oh, no; I don't indeed," said Charlotta.
" It makes you cough."
" Oh dear no."
" You coughed just now."
" Me, Captain Waters ! Lor! how can you say so ? "
" Somebody coughed," said the captain.
* I certainly thought so," said Slaughter. No; every-
body denied it.
" Fancy," said the captain.
" Must be," echoed Slaughter.
Cigars resumed — more smoke — another cough —
smothered, but violent.
" Damned odd!" said the captain, staring about
him.
"Sing'ler!" ejaculated the unconscious Mr. Joseph
Tuggs.
Lieutenant Slaughter looked first at one person mys-
teriously, then at another; then, laid down his cigar;
then, approached the window on tiptoe, and^pointed with
his right thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the
curtain.
" Slaughter!" ejaculated the captain, rising from table,
" what do you mean ? "
The lieutenant, in reply, drew back the curtain and
discovered Mr. Cymon Tuggs behind it; pallid with
apprehension, and blue with wanting to cough.
" Aha ! " exclaimed the captain furiously, " What do 1
see ? Slaughter, your sabre!"
" Cymon ! " screamed the Tuggs's.
" Mercy ! " said Belinda.
" Platonic ! " gasped Cymon.
140
SKETCHES BY BOZ
" Your sabre ! " roared the captain " Slaughter —
unhand me — the villain's life ! "
" Murder ! " screamed the Tuggs's.
" Hold him fast, sir !" faintly articulated Cymon.
" Water!" exclaimed Joseph Tuggs — and Mr. Cymon
Tuggs and all the ladies forthwith fainted away, and
formed a tableau.
Most willingly would we conceal the disastrous termi-
nation of the six weeks' acquaintance. A troublesome
form, and an arbitrary custom, however, prescribe that a
story should have a conclusion, in addition to a com-
mencement; we have therefore no alternative. Lieu-
tenant Slaughter brought a message — the captain
brought an action. Mr. Joseph Tuggs interposed — the
lieutenant negotiated. When Mr. Cymon Tuggs re-
covered from the nervous disorder into which misplaced
affection, and exciting circumstances had plunged him, he
found that his family had lost their pleasant acquaint-
ance ; that his father was minus fifteen hundred pounds;
and the captain plus the precise sum. The money was
paid to hush the matter up, but it got abroad notwith-
standing; and there are not wanting some who affirm
that three designing impostors never found more easy
dupes, than did Captain Waters, Mrs. Waters, and Lieu-
tenant Slaughter, in the Tuggs's at Eamsgate.
HORATIO S PARKINS.
141
CHAPTER V.
horatio sparkins.
"Indeed, my love, he paid Teresa very great aiten-
tion on the last assembly night," said Mrs. Malderlon,
addressing her spouse, who, after the fatigues of the day
in the City, was sitting with a silk handkerchief over his
head, and his feet on the fender, drinking his port; —
« very great attention; and I say again, every possible
encouragement ought to be given him. He positively
must be asked down here to dine."
" Who must ? " inquired Mr. Malderton.
" Why, you know whom I mean, my dear — the young
man with'the black whiskers and the white cravat, who
has just come out at our assembly, and whom all the
girls are talking about. Young dear me ! what's
his name ? — Marianne, what is his name ? " continued
Mrs. Malderton, addressing her youngest daughter, who
was engaged in netting a purse and looking sentimental.
" Mr. Horatio Sparkins, ma," replied Miss Marianne,
with a sigh.
" Oh ! yes, to be sure — Horatio Sparkins," said Mrs
Malderton. " Decidedly the most gentleman-like young
man I ever saw. I am sure, in the beautifully made
coat he wore the other night, he looked like — like — "
" Like Prince Leopold, ma — so noble, so full of sen
timent!" suggested Marianne, in a tone of enthusiastic
admiration.
" You should recollect, my dear," resumed Mrs. Mai-
142
SKETCHES BY B07„
derton, " that Teresa is now eight-and-twenty; and that it
really is very important that something should be done."
Miss Teresa Malderton was a very little girl, rather
fat, with vermilion cheeks, but good-humored, and still
disengaged, although, to do her justice, the misfortune
arose from no lack of perseverance on her part. In vain,
had she flirted for ten years; in vain, had Mr. and Mrs.
Malderton assiduously kept up an extensive acquaintance
among the young eligible bachelors of Camberwell, and
even of "Wandsworth and Brixton; to say nothing of
those who " dropped in " from town. Miss Malderton
was as well known as the lion on the top of Northumber-
land House, and had an equal chance of " going off."
"I am quite sure you'd like him," continued Mrs.
Malderton ; " he is so gentlemanly!"
" So clever!" said Miss Marianne.
" And has such a flow of language!" added Miss
Teresa.
" He has a great respect for you, my dear," said Mrs.
Malderton to her husband. Mr. Malderton coughed, and
looked at the fire.
" Yes, I'm sure he's very much attached to pa's so-
ciety," said Miss Marianne.
" No doubt of it," echoed Miss Teresa.
" Indeed, he said as much to me in confidence," ob-
served Mrs. Malderton.
" Well, well," returned Mr. Malderton, somewhat flat-
tered ; " If I see him at the assembly to-morrow, perhaps
I'll ask him down. I hope he knows we live at Oak
Lodge, Camberwell, my dear ?"
" Of course — and that you keep a one-horse carriage."
" I'll see about it," said Mr. Malderton, composing
himself for a nap; "I'll see about it."
HORATIO SPARKINS.
143
Mr. Malderton was a man whose whole scope of ideas
was limited to Lloyd's, the Exchange, the India House,
and the Bank. A few successful speculations had raised
him from a situation of obscurity and comparative pov-
erty to a state of affluence. As frequently happens in
such cases, the ideas of himself and his family became
elevated to an extraordinary pitch as their means in-
creased; they affected fashion, taste, and many other
fooleries, in imitation of their betters, and had a very
decided and becoming horror of anything which could,
by possibility, be considered low. He was hospitable
from ostentation, illiberal from ignorance, and prejudiced
from conceit. Egotism and the love of display induced
him to keep an excellent table : convenience, and a love
of good things of this life, insured him plenty of guests.
He liked to have clever men, or what he considered such,
at his table, because it was a great thing to talk about;
but he never could endure what he called " sharp fel-
lows." Probably, he cherished this feeling out of com-
pliment to his two sons, who gave their respected parent
no uneasiness in that particular. The family were am-
bitious of forming acquaintances and connections in some
sphere of society superior to that in which they them-
selves moved ; and one of the necessary consequences of
this desire, added to their utter ignorance of the world
beyond their own small circle, was, that any one who
could lay claim to an acquaintance with people of rank
and title, had a sure passport to the table at Oak Lodge,
Camberwell.
The appearance of Mr. Horatio Sparkins at the as-
sembly had excited no small degree of surprise and
curiosity among its regular frequenters. Who could he
Oe ? He was evidently reserved, and apparently melan-
144
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
choly. Was he a clergyman ? — He danced too well.
A barrister ? — He said he was not called. He used
very fine words, and talked a great deal. Could he be
a distinguished foreigner, come to England for the pur-
pose of describing the country; its manners and cus-
toms ; and frequenting public balls and public dinners,
with the view of becoming acquainted with high life,
polished etiquette and English refinement ? — No, he
had not a foreign accent. Was he a surgeon, a contribu-
tor to the magazines, a writer of fashionable novels, or
an artist ? — No; to each and all of these surmises, there
existed some valid objection. — " Then," said everybody,
"he must be somebody." — "I should think he must be,"
reasoned Mr. Malderton, with himself, " because he per-
ceives our superiority, and pays us so much attention."
The night succeeding the conversation we have just
recorded, was " assembly night." The double-fly was
ordered to be at the door of Oak Lodge at nine o'clock
precisely. The Miss Maldertona were dressed in sky-
blue satin trimmed with artificial flowers ; and Mrs. M.
(who was a little fat woman) in ditto ditto, looked like
her eldest daughter multiplied by two. Mr. Frederick
Malderton, the eldest son, in full-dress costume, was the
very beau ideal of a smart waiter ; and Mr. Thomas Mai-
derton, the youngest, with his white dress-stock, blue coat,
bright buttons, and red watch-ribbon, strongly resembled
the portrait of that interesting, but rash young gentle-
man, George Barnwell. Every member of the party
had made up his or her mind to cultivate the acquaint-
ance of Mr. Horatio Sparkins. Miss Teresa, of course,
was to be as amiable and interesting as ladies of eight-
and-twenty on the look-out for a husband usually are.
Mrs. Malderton would be all smiles and graces. Miss
HORATIO SPARKINS.
145
Marianne would request the favor of some verses for her
album. Mr. Malderton would patronize the great un-
known by asking him to dinner. Tom intended to ascer-
tain the extent of his information on the interesting
topics of snuff and cigars. Even Mr. Frederick Mai-
derton himself, the family authority on all points of taste,
dress, and fashionable arrangement; who had lodgings
of his own in town ; who had a free admission to Co-
vent Garden theatre; who always dressed according to
the fashions of the months ; who went up the water
twice a-week in the season ; and who actually had an
intimate friend who once knew a gentleman who for-
merly lived in the Albany, — even he had determined
that Mr. Horatio Sparkins must be a devilish good fellow,
and that he would do him the honor of challenging him
to a game at billiards.
The first object that met the anxious eyes of the ex-
pectant family on their entrance into the ball-room, was
the interesting Horatio, with his hair brushed off his fore-
head, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling, reclining in a
contemplative attitude on one of the seats.
" There he is, my dear," whispered Mrs. Malderton to
Mr. Malderton.
" How like Lord Byron !" murmured Miss Teresa.
" Or Montgomery!" whispered Miss Marianne.
" Or the portraits of Captain Cook !" suggested Tom.
" Tom — don't be an ass ! " said his father, who checked
liirn on all occasions, probably with a view to prevent his
becoming "sharp" — which was very unnecessary.
The elegant Sparkins attitudinized with admirable
effect, until the family had crossed the room. He then
started up, with the most natural appearance of surprise
and delight; accosted Mrs. Malderton with the utmost
VOL. II. 10
146
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
cordiality; saluted the young ladies in the most enchant-
ing manner; bowed to. and shook hands with, Mr. Mai-
derton, with a degree of respect amounting almost to
veneration; and returned the greetings of the two young
men in a half-gratified, half-patronizing manner, which
fully convinced them that he must be an important, and,
at the same time, condescending personage.
" Miss Malderton," said Horatio, after the ordinary
salutations, and bowing very low, " may I be permitted
to presume to hope that you will allow me to have the
pleasure — "
" I don't think I am engaged," said Miss Teresa, with
a dreadful affectation of indifference — " but, really — so
many — "
Horatio looked handsomely miserable.
" I shall be most happy," simpered the interesting
Teresa, at last. Horatio's countenance brightened up,
like an old hat in a shower of rain.
" A very genteel young man, certainly!" said the
gratified Mr. Malderton, as the obsequious Sparkins
and his partner joined the quadrille which was just
forming.
" He has a remarkably good address," said Mr. Fred-
erick.
" Yes, he is a prime fellow," interposed Tom, who
always managed to put his foot in it —" he talks just
like an auctioneer."
" Tom !" said his father solemnly, " I think I desired
you, before, not to be a fool." Tom looked as happy as
i cock on a drizzly morning.
" How delightful !" said the interesting Horatio to his
partner, as they promenaded the room at the conclusion
sf the set — "how delightful, how refreshing it is, to
HOEATIO SPARK INS.
147
retire from the cloudy storms, the vicissitudes, and the
troubles, of life, even if it be but for a few short fleeting
moments ; and to spend those moments, fading and eva-
nescent though they be, in the delightful, the blessed,
society of one individual — whose frowns would be death,
whose coldness would be madness, whose falsehood would
he ruin, whose constancy would be bliss ; the possession
of whose affection would be the brightest and best reward
that Heaven could bestow on man ! "
" What feeling! what sentiment!" thought Miss
Teresa, as she leaned more heavily on her companion's
arm.
" But enough — enough !" resumed the elegant Spar-
kins, with a theatrical air. " What have I said ? what
have I — I — to do with sentiments like these ! Miss
Malderton — " here he stopped short — " may I hope to
he permitted to offer the humble tribute of — "
" Really, Mr. Sparkins," returned the enraptured
Teresa, blushing in the sweetest confusion, " I must refer
you to papa. I never can, without his consent, venture
to — "
" Surely he cannot object — "
" Oh, yes. Indeed, indeed, you know him not!" in-
terrupted Miss Teresa, well knowing there was nothing
to fear, but wishing to make the interview resemble a
scene in some romantic novel.
" He cannot object to my offering you a glass of
negus," returned the adorable Sparkins, with some sur-
prise.
" Is that all ? " thought the disappointed Teresa.
" What a fuss about nothing ! "
" It will give me the greatest pleasure, sir, to see you
to dinner at Oak Lodge, Camberwell, on Sunday next at
148
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
five o'clock, if you have no better engagement," said Mr.
Malderton, at the conclusion of the evening, as he and
his sons were standing in conversation with Mr. Horatio
Sparkins.
Horatio bowed his acknowledgments, and accepted the
flattering invitation.
" I must confess," continued the father, offering his
3nuff-box to his new acquaintance, " that I don't enjoy
these assemblies half so much as the comfort — I had
almost said the luxury — of Oak Lodge. They have no
great charms for an elderly man."
" And, after all, sir, what is man ? " said the meta-
physical Sparkins. " 1 say, what is man ? "
" Ah! very true," said Mr. Malderton ; " very true."
" We know that we live and breathe," continued Ho-
ratio; " that we have wants and wishes, desires and
appetites — "
" Certainly," said Mr. Frederick Malderton, looking
profound.
" I say, we know that we exist," repeated Horatio, rais-
ing his voice, " but there, we stop ; there is an end to our
knowledge ; there, is the summit of our attainments;
there, is the termination of our ends. What more do
we know ? "
"Nothing," replied Mr. Frederick—than whom no
one was more capable of answering for himself in that
particular. Tom was about to hazard something, but,
fortunately for his reputation, he caught his father's
angry eye, and slunk off like a puppy convicted of petty
larceny.
" Upon my word," said Mr. Malderton the elder, as
they were returning home in the Fly, " that Mr. Spar-
kins is a wonderful young man. Such surprising knowl-
HORATIO SPARKINS. -
149
edge ! such extraordinary information ! and such a splen-
did mode of expressing himself! "
" I think he must be somebody in disguise," said Miss
Marianne. " How charmingly romantic !"
" He talks very loud and nicely," timidly observed
Tom, " but I don't exactly understand what he means."
" I almost begin to despair of your understanding any-
thing, Tom," said his father, who, of course, had been
much enlightened by Mr. Horatio Sparkins' conversa-
tion.
" It strikes me, Tom," said Miss Teresa, " that you
have made yourself very ridiculous this evening."
" No doubt of it," cried everybody — and the unfor-
tunate Tom reduced himself into the least possible space.
That night, Mr. and Mrs. Malderton had a long conver-
sation respecting their daughter's prospects and future
arrangements. Miss Teresa went to bed, considering
whether, in the event of her marrying a title, she could
conscientiously encourage the visits of her present asso-
dates; and dreamed, all night, of disguised noblemen,
large routs, ostrich plumes, bridal favors, and Horatio
Sparkins.
Various surmises were hazarded on the Sunday morn-
ing, as to the mode of conveyance which the anxiously
expected Horatio would adopt. Did he keep a gig ? —
was it possible he could come on horseback ? — or would
he patronize the stage ? These, and various other con-
jectnres of equal importance, engrossed the attention of
Mrs. Malderton and her daughters during the whole
morning after church.
" Upon my word, my dear, it's a most annoying thing
that that vulgar brother of yours should have invited
himself to dine here to-day," said Mr. Malderton to his
150
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
wife. "On account of Mr. Sparkins's coining down, 1
purposely abstained from asking anyone but Flamwell.
And then to think of your brother — a tradesman — it's
insufferable ! I declare I wouldn't have him mention his
shop, before our new guest — no, not for a thousand
pounds! I wouldn't care if he had the good sense to
conceal the disgrace he is to the family ; but he's so fond
of his horrible business, that he wiU let people know
what he is."
Mr. Jacob Barton, the individual alluded to, was a
large grocer; so vulgar, and so lost to all sense of feel-
ing, that he actually never scrupled to avow that he
wasn't above his business : " he'd made his money by it,
and he didn't care who know'd it."
" Ah ! Flamwell, my dear fellow, how d'ye do ? " said
Mr. Malderton, as a little spoffish man, with green spec-
tacles, entered the room. " You got my note ? "
" Yes, I did; and here I am in consequence."
" You don't happen to know this Mr. Sparkins by
name ? You know everybody ? "
Mr. Flamwell was one of those gentlemen of remark-
ably extensive information whom one occasionally meets
in society, who pretend to know everybody, but in reality
know nobody. At Malderton's, where any stories about
great people were received with a greedy ear, he was
an especial favorite ; and, knowing the kind of people
he had to deal with, he carried his passion of claiming
acquaintance with everybody to the most immoderate
length. He had rather a singular way of telling his
greatest lies in a parenthesis, and with an air of self-
denial, as if he feared being thought egotistical.
" Why, no, I don't know him by that name," returned
Flamwell, in a low tone, and with an air of immense
HORATIO SPARKINS.
151
importance. " I have no doubt I know him, though.
Ts he tall ? "
" Middle-sized," said Miss Teresa.
" With black hair ? " inquired Flamwell, hazarding a
bold guess.
" Yes," returned Miss Teresa, eagerly.
" Rather a snub nose ? "
" No," said the disappointed Teresa, " he has a Roman
nose."
" I said a Roman nose, didn't I ? " inquired Flamwell.
" He's an elegant young man ? "
" Oh, certainly."
" With remarkably prepossessing manners ? "
" Oh, yes!" said all the family together. " You must
know him."
" Yes, I thought you knew him, if he was anybody,"
triumphantly exclaimed Mr. Malderton. "Who d'ye
think he is ? "
" Why, from your description," said Flamwell, rumi-
nating, and sinking his voice, almost to a whisper, " he
bears a strong resemblance to the Honorable Augustus
Fitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-Osborne. He's a very tal-
ented young man, and rather eccentric, it's extremely
probable he may have changed his name for some tempo-
rary purpose."
Teresa's heart beat high. Could he be the Honorable
Augustus Fitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-Osborne ! What
a name to be elegantly engraved upon two glazed cards,
tied together with a piece of white satin ribbon ! " The
Honorable Mrs. Augustus Fitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-
Osborne ! " The thought was transport.
" It's five minutes to five," said Mr. Malderton, looking
at his watch : " I hope he's not going to disappoint us."
152
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
"There he is!" exclaimed Miss Teresa, as a loud
double-knock was heard at the door. Everybody en-
deavored to look — as people when they particularly
expect a visitor always do — as if they were perfectly
unsuspicious of the approach of anybody.
The room-door opened — " Mr. Barton ! " said the
servant.
" Confound the man !" murmured Malderton. " Ah !
my dear sir, how d'ye do ! Any news ? "
" Why no," returned the grocer, in his usual bluff
manner. " No, none partickler. None that I am much
aware of. How d'ye do, gals and boys ? Mr. Flamwell,
sir — glad to see you."
" Here's Mr. Sparkins !" said Tom, who had been
looking out at the window, " on such a black horse !"
There was Horatio, sure enough, on a large black horse,
curveting and prancing along, like an Astley's supernu-
merary. After a great deal of reining in, and pulling
up, with the accompaniments of snorting, rearing, and
kicking, the animal consented to stop at about a hundred
yards from the gate, where Mr. Sparkins dismounted, and
confided him to the care of Mr. Malderton's groom. The
ceremony of introduction was gone through, in all due
form. Mr. Flamwell looked from behind his green
spectacles at Horatio with an air of mysterious impor-
tance; and the gallant Horatio looked unutterable things
at Teresa.
" Is he the Honorable Mr. Augustus what's his
name ?" whispered Mrs. Malderton to Flamwell, as he
was escorting her to the dining-room.
" Why, no — at least not exactly," returned that great
authority — " not exactly."
" Who is he then ? "
HORATIO SPARKINS.
153
" Hush!" said Flamwell, nodding his head with a
grave air, importing that he knew very well; but was
prevented, by some grave reasons of state, from disclos-
ing the important secret. It might be one of the minis-
ters making himself acquainted with the views of the
people.
".Mr. Sparkins," said the delighted Mrs. Malderton,
" pray divide the ladies. John, put a chair for the gen-
tleman between Miss Teresa and Miss Marianne." This
was addressed to a man who, on ordinary occasions, acted
as half-groom, half-gardener ; but who, as it was impor-
tant to make an impression on Mr. Sparkins, had been
forced into a white neckerchief and shoes, and touched
up, and brushed, to look like a second footman.
The dinner was excellent; Horatio was most attentive
to Miss Teresa, and everyone felt in high spirits, except
Mr. Malderton, who, knowing the propensity of his
brother-in-law, Mr. Barton, endured that sort of agony
which the newspapers inform us is experienced by the
surrounding neighborhood when a pot-boy hangs himself
in a hay-loft, and which is " much easier to be imagined
than described."
" Have you seen your friend. Sir Thomas Noland,
lately, Flamwell ? " inquired Mr. Malderton, casting a
sidelong look at Horatio, to see what effect the mention
of so great a man had upon him.
" Why, no — not very lately. I saw Lord Gubbleton
the day before yesterday."
" Ah ! I hope his lordship is very well ? " said Malder-
ton, in a tone of the greatest interest. It is scarcely ne-
cessary to say that, until that moment, lie had been quite
innocent of the existence of such a person.
"Why, yes; he was very well — very well indeed.
154
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
He's a devilish good fellow. I met him in the City, and
had a long chat with him. Indeed, I'm rather intimate
with him. I couldn't stop to talk to him as long as I
could wish, though, because I was on my way to a bank-
er's, a very rich man, and a member of Parliament, with
whom I am also rather, indeed I may say very, inti-
mate."
" I know whom you mean," returned the host, con-
sequentially — in reality knowing as much about the
matter as Flamwell himself. " He has a capital busi-
ness."
This was touching on a dangerous topic.
" Talking of business," interposed Mr. Barton, from
the centre of the table. " A gentleman whom you
knew very well, Malderton, before you made that first
lucky spec of yours, called at our shop the other day,
and — "
" Barton, may I trouble you for a potato," interrupted
the wretched master of the house, hoping to nip the story
in the bud.
" Certainly," returned the grocer, quite insensible of
his brother-in-law's object—"and he said in a very
plain manner — "
" Floury, if you please," interrupted Malderton again;
dreading the termination of the anecdote, and fearing a
repetition of the word " shop."
" He said, says he," continued the culprit, after de-
patching the potato; " says he, how goes on your busi-
ness ? So I said, jokingly — you know my way — says
I, I'm never above my business, and I hope my business
Will never be above me. Ha, ha ! "
" Mr. Sparkins," said the host, vainly endeavoring to
conceal his dismay, " a glass of wine ? "
HORATIO SPARKINS.
155
" With the utmost pleasure, sir."
" Happy to see you."
" Thank you."
"We were talking the other evening," resumed the
host, addressing Horatio, partly with the view of dis-
playing the conversational powers of his new acquaint-
ance, and partly in the hope of drowning the grocer's
stories — " we were talking the other night about the
nature of man. Your argument struck me very forcibly."
"And me," said Mr. Frederick. Horatio made a
graceful inclination of the head.
" Pray, what is your opinion of woman, Mr. Spar-
kins ?" inquired Mrs. Malderton. The young ladies
simpered.
" Man," replied Horatio, " man, whether he ranged
the bright, gay, flowery plains of a second Eden, or the
more sterile, barren, and I may say commonplace re-
gions, to which we are compelled to accustom ourselves,
in times such as these; man, under any circumstance, or
in any place — whether he were bending beneath the
withering blasts of the frigid zone, or scorching under
the rays of a vertical sun — man, without woman, would
be — alone."
" I am very happy to find you entertain such honor-
able opinions, Mr. Sparkins," said Mrs. Malderton.
" And I," added Miss Teresa. Horatio looked his de-
light, and the young lady blushed.
" Now it's my opinion," said Mr. Barton —
" I know what you're going tq say," interposed Mai-
derton, determined not to give his relation another oppor-
tunity, " and I don't agree with you."
" What ? " inquired the astonished grocer.
" T am sorry to differ from you, Barton." said the host,
156
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
in as positive a manner as if he really were contradict-
ing a position which the other had laid down, " but I
cannot give my assent to what I consider a very monstrous
proposition."
" But I meant to say —"
" You never can convince me," said Malderton, with
an air of obstinate determination. " Never."
"And I," said Mr. Frederick, following up his father's
attack, " cannot entirely agree in Mr. Sparkins's argu-
ment."
" What! " said Horatio, w ho became more metaphysi-
cal, and more argumentative, as he saw the female part
of the family listening in wondering delight—"What!
Is effect the consequence of cause? Is cause the pre-
cursor of effect?"
" That's the point," said Flamwell.
" To be sure," said Mr. Malderton.
" Because, if effect is the consequence of cause, and if
cause does precede effect, I apprehend you are wrong,"
added Horatio.
" Decidedly," said the toad-eating Flamwell.
" At least, I apprehend that to he the just and logical
deduction ? " said Sparkins, in a tone of interrogation.
" No doubt of it," chimed in Flamwell again. " It
settles the point."
" Well, perhaps it does," said Mr. Frederick; " 1
didn't see it before."
" I don't exactly see it now," thought the grocer ;
' but I suppose it's all right."
" How wonderfully clever he is!" whispered Mrs.
Malderton to her daughters, as they retired to the
drawing-room.
" Oh, he's quite a love ! " said both the young ladies
HORATIO SPARKINS.
157
together; " he talks like an oracle. He must have seen
a great deal of life !"
The gentlemen being left to themselves, a pause en-
sued, during which everybody looked very grave, as if
they were quite overcome by the profound nature of the
previous discussion. Flamwell, who had made up his
mind to find out who and what Mr. Horatio Sparkins
really was, first broke silence.
" Excuse me, sir," said that distinguished personage,
" I presume you have studied for the bar ? I thought
of entering once, myself— indeed, I'm rather intimate
with some of the highest ornaments of that distinguished
profession."
" N—no !" said Horatio, with a little hesitation; "not
exactly."
" But you have been much among the silk gowns, or I
mistake ? " inquired Flamwell, deferentially.
" Nearly all my life," returned Sparkins.
The question was thus pretty well settled in the mind
of Mr. Flamwell. He was a young gentleman " about
to be called."
" I shouldn't like to be a barrister," said Tom, speak-
ing for the first time, and looking round the table to find
somebody who would notice the remark.
No one made any reply.
" I shouldn't like to wear a wig," said Tom, hazarding
another observation.
" Tom, I beg you will not make yourself ridiculous,"
said his father. " Pray listen, and improve yourself by
the conversation you hear, and don't be constantly mak-
ing these absurd remarks."
" Very well, father," replied the unfortunate Tom, who
had not 3poken a word since he had asked for another
158
SKETCHES ISY BOZ.
slice of beef at a quarter past five o'clock p. m., and it
was then eight.
" Well, Tom," observed his good-natured uncle," nevei
mind! I think with you. 1 shouldn't like to wear a
wig. I'd rather wear an apron."
Mr. Malderton coughed violently. Mr. Barton re-
3umed — " For if a man's above his business —"
The cough returned with tenfold violence, and did not
cease until the unfortunate cause of it, in his alarm, had
quite forgotten what he intended to say.
" Mr. Sparkins," said Flam well, returning to the
charge, " do you happen to know Mr. Delafontaine, of
Bedford Square ? "
" I have exchanged cards with him ; since which, in-
deed, I have had an opportunity of serving him consid-
erably," replied Horatio, slightly coloring; no doubt, at
having been betrayed into making the acknowledgment.
" You are very lucky, if you have had an opportunity
of obliging that great man," observed Flamwell, with an
air of profound respect.
" I don't know who he is," he whispered to Mr. Mai-
derton, confidentially, as they followed Horatio up to the
drawing-room. " It's quite clear, however, that he be-
longs to the law, and that he is somebody of great impor-
tance, and very highly connected."
" No doubt, no doubt," returned his companion.
The remainder of the evening passed away most do-
lightfully. Mr. Malderton, relieved from his apprehen
sions by the circumstance of Mr. Barton's falling into a
profound sleep, was as affable and gracious as possible.
Miss Teresa played the "Fall of Paris," as Mr. Spar-
kins declared, in a most masterly manner, and both of
them, assisted by Mr. Frederick, tried over glees and
HORATIO SPARKINS.
159
trios without number; they having made the pleasing
discovery that their voices harmonized beautifully. To
be sure, they all sang the first part; and Horatio, in ad-
dition to the slight drawback of having no ear, was per-
fectly innocent of knowing a note of music; still, they
passed the time very agreeably, and it was past twelve
o'clock before Mr. Sparkins ordered the mourning-coach-
looking steed to be brought out — an order which was
only complied with on the distinct understanding that he
was to repeat his visit on the following Sunday.
" But, perhaps, Mr. Sparkins will form one of our
party to-morrow evening ? " suggested Mrs. M. " Mr.
Malderton intends taking the girls to see the panto-
mime." Mr. Sparkins bowed, and promised to join the
party in box 48, in the course of the evening.
"We will not tax you for the morning," said Miss
Teresa, bewitchingly ; " for ma is going to take us to all
sorts of places, shopping. I know that gentlemen have
a great horror of that employment." Mr. Sparkins
bowed again, and declared that he should be delighted,
but business of importance occupied him in the morning.
Flamwell looked at Malderton significantly — " It's term
time !" he whispered.
At twelve o'clock on the following morning, the " fly "
was at the door of Oak Lodge, to convey Mrs. Malderton
and her daughters on their expedition for the day. They
were to dine and dress for the play at a friend's house.
First, driving thither with their bandboxes, they de-
parted on their first errand to make some purchases at
Messrs. Jones, Spruggins, and Smith's, of Tottenham
Court Road; after which they were to go to Red-
mayne's in Bond Street; thence, to innumerable places
that no one ever heard of. The young ladies beguiled
160
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
the tediousness of the ride by eulogizing Mr. Horatio
Sparkins, scolding their mamma for taking them so far to
save a shilling, and wondering whether they should ever
reach their destination. At length, the vehicle stopped
before a dirty looking ticketed linen-draper's shop, with
goods of all kinds, and labels of all sorts and sizes, in
the window. There were dropsical figures of seven with
a little three-farthings in the corner; " perfectly invisible
to the naked eye ;" three hundred and fifty thousand
ladies' boas, from one shilling and a penny halfpenny;
real French kid shoes, at two and ninepence per pair;
green parasols, at an equally cheap rate; and " every
description of goods," as the proprietors said — and they
must know best — " fifty per cent under cost-price."
" Lor! ma, what a place you have brought us to! "
said Miss Teresa; " what would Mr. Sparkins say if he
could see us ! "
" Ah ! what, indeed ! " said Miss Marianne, horrified
at the idea.
" Pray be seated, ladies. What is the first article ? "
inquired the obsequious master of the ceremonies of the
establishment, who, in his large white neckcloth and
formal tie, looked like a bad " portrait of a gentleman "
in the Somerset House exhibition.
" I want to see some silks," answered Mrs. Malderton.
" Directly, ma'am. — Mr. Smith ! Where is Mr.
Smith?"
" Here, sir," cried a voice at the back of the shop.
" Pray make haste, Mr. Smith," said the M. C. " You
never are to be found when you're wanted, sir."
Mr. Smith, thus enjoined to use all possible despatch,
leaped over the counter with great agility, and placed
tfimself before the newly arrived customers. Mrs. Mai-
HORATIO SPARKINS.
161
derton uttered a faint scream ; Miss Teresa, who had
been stooping down to talk to her sister, raised her head,
and b'elield — Horatio Sparkins !
"We will draw a veil," as novel-writers say, over the
scene that ensued. The mysterious, philosophical, ro-
mantic, metaphysical Sparkins — he who, to the interest-
ing Teresa, seemed like the embodied idea of the young
dukes and poetical exquisites in blue silk dressing-gowns,
and ditto ditto slippers, of whom she had read and
dreamed, but had never expected to behold, was sud-
denly converted into Mr. Samuel Smith, the assistant at
a " cheap shop;" the junior partner in a slippery firm
of some three weeks' existence. The dignified evanish-
ment of the hero of Oak Lodge, on this unexpected
recognition, could only be equalled by that of a furtive
dog with a considerable kettle at his tail. All the hopes
of the Maldertons were destined at once to melt away,
like the lemon ices at a Company's dinner; Almacks
was still to them as distant as the North Pole; and Miss
Teresa had as much chance of a husband as Captain
Ross had of the northwest passage.
Years have elapsed since the occurrence of this dread-
ful morning. The daisies have thrice bloomed 011 Cam-
berwell Green ; the sparrows have thrice repeated their
vernal chirps in Camberwell Grove; but the Miss Mai-
dertons are still unmated. Miss Teresa's case is more
desperate than ever; but Flamwell is yet in the zenith
of his reputation; and the family have the same predi-
lection for aristocratic personages, with an increased
aversion to anything low.
VOL. IL
it
162
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
CHAPTER VL
the black veil.
One winter's evening towards the close of the year
1800, or within a year or two of that time, a young
medical practitioner, recently established in business,
was seated by a cheerful fire, in his little parlor, listen-
ing to the wind which was beating the rain in pattering
drops against the window, and rumbling dismally in the
chimney. The night was wet and cold ; he had been
walking through mud and water the whole day, and was
now comfortably reposing in his dressing-gown and slip-
pers, more than half asleep and less than half awake,
revolving a thousand matters in his wandering imagina-
tion. First, he thought how hard the wind was blowing,
and how the cold, sharp rain would be at that moment
beating in his face, if he were not comfortably housed at
home. Then, his mind reverted to his annual Christmas
visit to his native place and dearest friends ; he thought
how glad they would all be to see him, and how happy
it would make Rose if he could only tell her that he had
found a patient at last, and hoped to have more, and to
come down again, in a few months' time, and marry her,
and take her home to gladden his lonely fireside, and
stimulate him to fresh exertions. Then, he began to
wonder when his first patient would appear, or whether
lie was destined, by a special dispensation of Providence,
never to have any patients at all; and then, he thought
about Rose again, and dropped to sleep and dreamed
THE BLACK VEIL.
163
about her, till the tones of her sweet merry voice sounded
in his ears, and her soft tiny hand rested on his shoulder.
There was a hand upon his shoulder, but it was neither
30ft nor tiny; its owner being a corpulent round-headed
boy, who, in consideration of the sum of one shilling per
week and his food, was let out by the parish to carry
medicine and messages. As there was no demand for
the medicine, however, and no necessity for the mes-
sages, he usually occupied his unemployed hours —
averaging fourteen a day — in abstracting peppermint
drops, taking animal nourishment, and going to sleep.
"A lady, sir—a lady!" whispered the boy, rousing
his master with a shake.
" What lady ? " cried our friend, starting up, not quite
certain that his dream was an illusion, and half expect-
ing that it might be Rose herself. —" What lady ?
Where?"
" There, sir!" replied the boy, pointing to the glass
door leading into the surgery, with an expression of
alarm which the very unusual apparition of a customer
might have tended to excite.
The surgeon looked towards the door, and started him-
self, for an instant, on beholding the appearance of his
unlooked-for visitor.
It was a singularly tall woman, dressed in deep mourn-
ing, and standing so close to the door that her face almost
touched the glass. The upper part of her figure was aire-
fully muffled in a black shawl, as if for the purpose of
concealment; and her face was shrouded by a thick black
veil. She stood perfectly erect; her figure was drawn
up to its full height, and though the surgeon felt that the
eyes beneath the veil were fixed on him, she stood per-
I'ectly motionless, and evinced, by no gesture whatever,
164
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
the slightest consciousness of his having turned towards
her.
" Do you wish to consult me ? " he inquired, with some
hesitation, holding open the door. It opened inwards,
and therefore the action did not alter the position of the
figure, which still remained motionless on the same
spot.
She slightly inclined her head in token of acqui-
escence.
" Pray walk in," said the surgeon.
The figure moved a step forward; and then, turning
its head in the direction of the boy — to his infinite hor-
ror — appeared to hesitate.
" Leave the room, Tom," said the young man, address-
ing the boy, whose large round eyes had been extended
to their utmost width during this brief interview. " Draw
the curtain, and shut the door."
The boy drew a green curtain across the glass part of
the door, retired into the surgery, closed the door after
him, and immediately applied one of his large eyes to
the keyhole on the other side.
The surgeon drew a chair to the fire, and motioned
the visitor to a seat. The mysterious figure slowly
moved towards it. As the blaze shone upon the black
dress, the surgeon observed that the bottom of it was
saturated with mud and rain.
" You are very wet," he said.
" I am," said the stranger, in a low deep voice.
" And you are ill ? " added the surgeon, compassion-
ately, for the tone was that of a person in pain.
" I am," was the reply —" very ill: not bodily, but
mentally. It is not for mj'self, or on my own behalf,"
continued the stranger, " that I come to you. If T
THE BLACK VEIL.
165
labored under bodily disease, I should not be out, alone,
at such an hour, or on such a night as this; and if I
were afflicted with it, twenty-four hours hence, God
knows how gladly I would lie down and pray to die.
It is for another that I beseech your aid, sir. I may be
mad to ask it for him — I think I am ; but, night after
night through the long dreary hours of watching and
weeping, the thought has been ever present to my mind ;
and though even I see the hopelessness of human assist-
ance availing him, the bare thought of laying him in his
grave without it makes my blood run cold!" And a
shudder, such as the surgeon well knew art could not
produce, trembled through the speaker's frame.
There was a desperate earnestness in this woman's
manner, that went to the young man's heart. He was
young in his profession, and had not yet witnessed enough
of the miseries which are daily presented before the eyes
of its members, to have grown comparatively callous to
human suffering.
" If," he said, rising hastily, " the person of whom you
speak be in so hopeless a condition as you describe, not
a moment is to be lost. I will go with you instantly.
Why did you not obtain medical advice before ? "
" Because it would have been useless before — be-
cause it is useless even now," replied the woman, clasp-
ing her hands passionately.
The surgeon gazed, for a moment, on the black veil,
as if to ascertain the expression of the features beneath
it; its thickness, however, rendered such a result impos-
sible.
" You are ill," he said, gently, " although you do not
know it. The fever which has enabled you to bear,
without feeling, the fatigue you have evidently under-
166
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
gone, is burning within you now. Put that to your lips,'
he continued, pouring out a glass of water — " compose
yourself for a few moments, and then tell me, as calmly
as you can, what the disease of the patient is, and how
long he has been ill. When I know what it is necessary
I should know, to render my visit serviceable to him, I
am ready to accompany you."
The stranger lifted the glass of water to her mouth,
without raising the veil; put it down again, untasted;
and burst into tears.
" I know," she said, sobbing aloud, " that what I say
to you now seems like the ravings of fever. I have
been told so before, less kindly than by you. I am not
a young woman ; and they do say, that as life steals on
towards its final close, the last short remnant, worthless
as it may seem to all beside, is dearer to its possessor
than all the years that have gone before, connected
though they be with the recollection of old friends
long since dead, and young ones — children perhaps —
who have fallen off from, and forgotten one as com-
pletely as if they had died too. My natural term of
life cannot be many years longer, and should be dear on
that account; but I would lay it down without a sigh —
with cheerfulness — with joy — if what I tell you now
were only false, or imaginary. To-morrow morning, he
of whom I speak will be, I know, though I would fain
think otherwise, beyond the reach of human aid ; and
yet, to-night, though he is in deadly peril, you must not
see, and could not serve, him."
"I am unwilling to increase your distress," said the
surgeon, after a short pause, " by making any comment
on what you have just said, or appearing desirous to in-
vestigate a subject you are so anxious to conceal; but
THE BLACK VEIL.
167
there is an inconsistency in your statement which I can-
not reconcile with probability. This person is dying
to-night, and I cannot see him when my assistance might
possibly avail; you apprehend it will be useless to-mor-
row, and yet you would have me see him then ! If he
be, indeed, as dear to you as your words and manner
would imply, why not try to save his life before delay
and the progress of his disease render it impracticable ? "
" God help me!" exclaimed the woman, weeping bit-
terly, " how can I hope strangers will believe what ap-
pears incredible even to myself? You will not see him
then, sir ? " she added, rising suddenly.
" I did not say that I declined to see him," replied the
surgeon ; " but I warn you, that if you persist in this
extraordinary procrastination, and the individual dies, a
fearful responsibility rests with you."
" The responsibility will rest heavily somewhere," re-
plied the stranger bitterly. " Whatever responsibility
rests with me, I am content to bear, and ready to an-
swer."
" As I incur none," continued the surgeon, " by acced-
ing to your request, I will see him in the morning, if
you leave me the address. And what hour can he be
seen ? "
" Nine," replied the stranger.
" You must excuse my pressing these inquiries," said
the surgeon. " But is he in your charge now ? "
" He is not," was her rejoinder.
" Then, if I gave you instructions for his treatment
. through the night, you could not assist him ? "
The woman wept bitterly, as she replied, •' I could
not."
Finding that there was but little prospect of obtaining
168
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
more information by prolonging the interview ; and anx-
ious to spare the woman's feelings, which, subdued at
first by a violent effort, were now irrepressible and most
painful to witness ; the surgeon repeated his promise of
calling in the morning at the appointed hour. His
visitor, after giving him a direction to an obscure part
of Walworth, left the house in the same mysterious
manner in which she had entered it.
It will be readily believed that so extraordinary a visit
produced a considerable impression on the mind of the
young surgeon ; and that he speculated a great deal and
to very little purpose on the possible circumstances of
the case. In common with the generality of people, he
had often heard and read of singular instances, in which
a presentiment of death, at a particular day, or even
minute, had been entertained and realized. At one
moment he was inclined to think that the present might
be such a case ; but, then, it occurred to him that all the
anecdotes of the kind he had ever heard were of persons
who had been troubled with a foreboding of their own
death. This woman, however, spoke of another person
— a man ; and it was impossible to suppose that a mere
dream or delusion of fancy would induce her to speak
of his approaching dissolution with such terrible cer-
tainty as she had spoken. It could not be that the man
was to be murdered in the morning, and that the woman,
originally a consenting party, and bound to secrecy by an
oath, had relented, and, though unable to prevent the
commission of some outrage on the victim, had deter-
mined to prevent his death if possible, by the timely
interposition of medical aid ? The idea of such things
happening within two miles of the metropolis appeared
too wild and preposterous to be entertained beyond the
THE BLACK VEIL.
1G9
instant. Then, his original impression that the woman's
intellects were disordered, recurred; and, as it was the
only mode of solving the difficulty with any degree of
satisfaction, he obstinately made up his mind to believe
that she was mad. Certain misgivings upon this point,
however, stole upon his thoughts at the time, and pre-
sented themselves again and again through the long dull
course of a sleepless night: during which, in spite of all
his efforts to the contrary, he was unable to banish the
black veil from his disturbed imagination.
The back part of Walworth, at its greatest distance
from town, is a straggling miserable place enough, even in
these days; but five-and-thirty years ago, the greater
portion of it was little better than a dreary waste, in-
habited by a few scattered people of questionable char-
acter, whose poverty prevented their living in any better
neighborhood, or whose pursuits and mode of life ren-
dered its solitude desirable. Very many of the houses
which have since sprung up on all sides were not built
until some years afterwards ; and the great majority
even of those which were sprinkled about, at irregular
intervals, were of the rudest and most miserable descrip-
tion.
The appearance of the place through which he walked
in the morning was not calculated to raise the spirits of
the young surgeon, or to dispel any feeling of anxiety
or depression which the singular kind of visit he was
about to make had awakened. Striking off' from the
high road, his way lay across a marshy common, through
irregular lanes, with here and there a ruinous and dis-
mantled cottage fast falling to pieces with decay and
neglect. A stunted tree, or pool of stagnant water,
roused into a sluggish action by the heavy rain of the
170
SKETCHES BT BOZ.
preceding night, skirted the path occasionally ; and, now
and then, a miserable patch of garden-ground, with a
few old boards knocked together for a summer-house,
and old palings imperfectly mended with stakes pilfered
from the neighboring hedges, bore testimony, at once,
to the poverty of the inhabitants, and the little scruple
they entertained in appropriating the property of other
people to their own use. Occasionally, a filthy looking
woman would make her appearance from the door of a
dirty house, to empty the contents of some cooking
utensil into the gutter in front, or to scream after a little
slip-shod girl who had contrived to stagger a few yards
from the door under the weight of a sallow infant almost
as big as herself; but, scarcely anything was stirring
around ; and so much of the prospect as could be faintly
traced through the cold damp mist which hung heavily
over it, presented a lonely and dreary appearance per-
fectly in keeping with the objects we have described.
After plodding wearily through the mud and mire ;
making many inquiries for the place to which he had
been directed ; and receiving as many contradictory and
unsatisfactory replies in return ; the young man at length
arrived before the house which had been pointed out to
him as the object of his destination. It was a small low
building, one story above the ground, with even a more
desolate and unpromising exterior than any he had yet
passed. An old yellow curtain was closely drawn across
the window up-stairs, and the parlor shutters were closed,
but not fastened. The house was detached from any
other, and, as it stood at an angle of a narrow lane,
there was no other habitation in sight.
When we say that the surgeon hesitated, and walked
i few paces beyond the house, before he could prevail
THE BLACK VEIL.
171
upon himself to lift the knocker, we say nothing that
need raise a smile upon the face of the boldest reader
The police of London were a very different body in that
day ; the isolated position of the suburbs, when the rage
for building and the progress of improvement had not
yet begun to connect them with the main body of the
city and its environs, rendered many of them (and this
in particular) a place of resort for the worst and most
depraved characters. Even the streets in the gayest
parts of London were imperfectly lighted at that time,
and such places as these were left entirely at the mercy
of the moon and stars. The chances of detecting des-
perate characters, or of tracing them to their haunts,
were thus rendered very few, and their offences naturally
increased in boldness, as the consciousness of compara-
tive security became the more impressed upon them by
daily experience. Added to these considerations, it must
be remembered that the young man had spent some time
in the public hospitals of the metropolis ; and, although
neither Burke nor Bishop had then gained a horrible
notoriety, his own observation might have suggested to
him how easily the atrocities to which the former has
since given his name might be committed. Be this as
it may, whatever reflection made him hesitate, he did
hesitate ; but, being a young man of strong mind and
great personal courage, it was only for an instant; — he
stepped briskly back, and knocked gently at the door.
A low whispering was audible, immediately after-
wards, as if some person at the end of the passage were
conversing stealthily with another on the landing above.
It was succeeded by the noise of a pair of heavy boots
upon the bare floor. The door-chain was softly unfas-
tened ; the door opened ; and a tall, ill-favored man, with
172
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
black hair, and a face as the surgeon often declared
afterwards as pale and haggard as the countenance of
any dead man he ever saw, presented himself.
" Walk in, sir," he said in a low tone.
The surgeon did so, and the man, having secured the
door again, by the chain, led the way to a small back
parlor at the extremity of the passage.
" Am I in time ? "
" Too soon !" replied the man. The surgeon turned
hastily round, with a gesture of astonishment not un-
mixed with alarm, which he found it impossible to re-
press.
" If you'll step in here, sir," said the man, who had
evidently noticed the action —" if you'll step in here,
sir, you won't be detained five minutes, I assure you."
The surgeon at once walked into the room. The man
closed the door, and left him alone.
It was a little cold room, with no other furniture than
two deal chairs, and a table of the same material. A
handful of fire, unguarded by any fender, was burning in
the grate, which brought out the damp if it served no
more comfortable purpose, for the unwholesome moisture
was stealing down the walls, in long, slug-like tracks.
The window, which was broken and patched in many
places, looked into a small enclosed piece of ground,
almost covered with water. Not a sound was to be
heard, either within the house, or without. The young
surgeon sat down by the fireplace, to await the result of
his first professional visit.
He had not remained in this position many minutes,
when the noise of some approaching vehicle struck his
car. It stopped ; the street-door was opened; a low
talking succeeded, accompanied with a shuffling noise of
THE BLACK VEIL.
173
footsteps, along the passage and on the stairs, as if two
or three men were engaged in carrying some heavy body
to the room above. The creaking of the stairs, a few
seconds afterwards, announced that the new comers hav-
ing completed their task, whatever it was, were leaving
the house. The door was again closed, and the former
silence was restored.
Another five minutes elapsed, and the surgeon had
resolved to explore the house, in search of some one to
whom he might make his errand known, when the room-
door opened, and his last night's visitor, dressed in ex-
actly the same manner, with the veil lowered as before,
motioned him to advance. The singular height of her
form, coupled with the circumstance of her not speaking,
caused the idea to pass across his brain, for an instant,
that it might be a man disguised in woman's attire. The
hysteric sobs which issued from beneath the veil, and the
convulsive attitude of grief of the whole figure, how-
ever, at once exposed the absurdity of the suspicion;
and he hastily followed.
The woman led the way up-stairs to the front room,
and paused at the door, to let him enter first. It was
scantily furnished with an old deal box, a few chairs, and
a tent bedstead, without hangings or cross-rails, which
was covered with a patchwork counterpane. The dim
light admitted through the curtain which he had noticed
from the outside, rendered the objects in the room so in-
distinct, and communicated to all of them so uniform a
hue, that he did not, at first, perceive the object on which
his eye at once rested when the woman rushed franti-
sally past him, and flung herself on her knees by the
bedside.
Stretched upon the bed, closely enveloped in a linen
174
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
wrapper, and covered with blankets, lay a human form,
stiff and motionless. The head and face, which were
those of a man, were uncovered, save by a bandage
which passed over the head and under the chin. The
eyes were closed. The left arm lay heavily across the
bed, and the woman held the passive hand.
The surgeon gently pushed the woman aside, and took
the hand in his.
" My God ! " he exclaimed, letting it fall involuntarily
— " the man is dead!"
The woman started to her feet and beat her hands to-
gether. " Oh ! don't say so, sir," she exclaimed, with a
burst of passion, amounting almost to frenzy. " Oh!
don't say so, sir! I can't bear it! Men have been
brought to life, before, when unskilful people have given
them up for lost; and men have died, who might have
been restored, if proper means had been resorted to.
Don't let him lie here, sir, without one effort to save
him! This very moment life may be passing away.
Do try, sir, — do, for Heaven's sake ! " — And while
speaking, she hurriedly chafed, first the forehead, and
then the breast, of the senseless form before her; and
then wildly beat the cold hands, which when she ceased
to hold them, fell listlessly and heavily back on the
coverlet.
" It is of no use, my good woman," said the surgeon
soothingly, as he withdrew his hand from the man's
breast. " Stay — undraw that curtain ! "
" Why ? " said the woman, starting up.
" Undraw that curtain ! " repeated the surgeon, in an
agitated tone.
" I darkened the room on purpose," said the woman,
throwing herself before him as he rose to undraw it. —
THE BLACK VEIL. 175
" Oh ! sir, have pity on me ! If it can be of no use, and
he is really dead, do not expose that form to other eyes
than mine! "
" This man died no natural or easy death," said the
surgeon. " I must see the body ! " With a motion so
sudden, that the woman hardly knew that he had slipped
from beside her, he tore open the curtain, admitted the
fall light of day, and returned to the bedside.
" There has been violence here," he said, pointing to-
wards the body, and gazing intently on the face, from
which the black veil was now, for the first time, removed.
In the excitement of a minute before, the female had
thrown off the bonnet and veil, and now stood with her
eyes fixed upon him. Her features were those of a
woman of about fifty, who had once been handsome.
Sorrow and weeping had left traces upon them which not
time itself would ever have produced without their aid ;
her face was deadly pale ; and there was a nervous con-
tortion of the lip, and an unnatural fire in her eye, which
showed too plainly that her bodily and mental powers
had nearly sunk beneath an accumulation of misery.
" There has been violence here," said the surgeon, pre-
serving his searching glance.
" There has ! " replied the woman.
" This man has been murdered."
" That I call God to witness he has," said the woman,
passionately; " pitilessly, inhumanly murdered! "
" By whom ? " said the surgeon, seizing the woman by
the arm.
" Look at the butchers' marks, and then ask me!" she
replied.
The surgeon turned his face towards the .hod, and bent
over the body which now lay full in the light of the win-
176
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
dow. The throat was swollen, and a livid mark encircled
it. The truth flashed suddenly upon him.
" This is one of the men who were hanged this morn-
ing!" he exclaimed, turning away with a shudder.
" It is," replied the woman, with a cold, unmeaning
stare.
" Who was he ? " inquired the surgeon.
" My son," rejoined the woman; and fell senseless at
his feet.
It was true. A companion, equally guilty with him-
self, had been acquitted for want of evidence; and this
man had been left for death, and executed. To recount
the circumstances of the case, at this distant period, must
be unnecessary, and might give pain to some persons still
alive. The history was an every-day one. The mother
was a widow without friends or money, and had denied
herself necessaries to bestow them on her orphan boy.
That boy, unmindful of her prayers, and forgetful of the
sufferings she had endured for him — incessant anxiety
of mind, and voluntary starvation of body — had plunged
into a career of dissipation and crime. And this was
the result: his own death by the hangman's hands, and
' his mother's shame, and incurable insanity.
For many years after this occurrence, and when profit-
able and arduous avocations would have led many men
to forget that such a miserable being existed, the young
surgeon was a daily visitor at the side of the harmless
mad woman ; not only soothing her by his presence and
kindness, but alleviating the rigor of her condition by
pecuniary donations for her comfort and support, be-
stowed with no sparing hand. In the transient gleam of
recollection and consciousness which preceded her death,
a prayer for his welfare and protection, as fervent as
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
177
mortal ever breathed, rose from the lips of this poor
friendless creature. The prayer flew to Heaven and was
heard. The blessings he was instrumental in conferring,
have been repaid to him a thousand-fold ; but, amid all
the honors of rank and station which have since been
heaped upon him, and which he has so well earned, he
can have no reminiscence more gratifying to his heart
than that connected with The Black Veil.
CHAPTER VII.
the steam excursion.
Mr. Percy Noakes was a law-student, inhabiting a
set of chambers on the fourth floor, in one of those houses
in Gray's Inn Square which command an extensive view
of the gardens, and their usual adjuncts — flaunting
nursery-maids, and town-made children, with parenthet-
ical legs. Mr. Percy Noakes was what is generally
termed — " a devilish good fellow." He had a large circle
of acquaintance, and seldom dined at his own expense.
He used to talk politics to papas, flatter the vanity of
mammas, do the amiable to their daughters, make pleas-
ure engagements with their sons, and romp with the
younger branches. Like those paragons of perfection,
advertising footmen out of place, he was always " willing
to make himself generally useful." If any old lady,
whose son was in India, gave a ball, Mr. Percy Noakes
was master of the ceremonies ; if any young lady made
A stolen match, Mr. Percy Noakes gave her away; if a
vol. ii. 12
178
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
juvenile wife presented her husband with a blooming
cherub, Mr. Percy Noakes was either godfather, or
deputy godfather; and if any member of a friend's
family died, Mr. Percy Noakes was invariably to be seen
in the second mourning coach, with a white handkerchief
to his eyes, sobbing — to use his own appropriate and
expressive description — " like winkin!"
It may readily be imagined that these numerous avo-
cations were rather calculated to interfere with Mr. Percy
Noakes's professional studies. Mr. Percy Noakes was
perfectly aware of the fact, and had, therefore, after
mature reflection, made up his mind not to study at all
— a laudable determination, to which he adhered in the
most praiseworthy manner. His sitting-room presented
a strange chaos of dress-gloves, boxing-gloves, carica-
tures, albums, invitation-cards, foils, cricket-bats, card-
board drawings, paste, gum, and fifty other miscellaneous
articles, heaped together in the strangest confusion. He
was always making something for somebody, or planning
some party of pleasure, which was his great forte. He
invariably spoke with astonishing rapidity ; was smart,
spoffish, and eight-and-twenty.
" Splendid idea, 'pon my life !" soliloquized Mr. Percy
Noakes, over bis morning's coffee, as his mind reverted
to a suggestion which had been thrown out on the pre-
vious night, by a lady at whose house he had spent the
evening. "Glorious idea!—Mrs. Stubbs."
" Yes, sir," replied a dirty old woman with an inflamed
countenance, emerging from the bedroom, with a barrel
of dirt and cinders. — This was the laundress. " Did
you call, sir ! "
" Oh! Mrs. Tubbs, I'm going out. If that tailor
should call again, you'd better say — you'd better say
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
179
Fm out of town, and shan't be back for a fortnight; and
if that bootmaker should come, tell him I'ta lost his ad-
dress, or I'd have sent him that little amount. Mind he
writes it down; and if Mr. Hardy should call — you
know Mr. Hardy ? "
" The funny gentleman, sir ? "
" Ah! the funny gentleman. If Mr. Hardy should
call, say I've gone to Mrs.* Taunton's about that water-
party."
" Yes, sir."
" And if any fellow calls, and says he's come about a
steamer, tell him to be here at five o'clock this afternoon,
Mrs. Stubbs."
" Very well, sir."
Mr. Percy Noakes brushed his hat, whisked the
crumbs off his inexplicables with a silk handkerchief,
gave the ends of his hair a persuasive roll round his
forefinger, and sallied forth for Mrs. Taunton's domicile
in Great Marlborough Street, where she and her daugh-
ters occupied the upper part of a house. She was a
good-looking widow of fifty, with the form of a giantess
and the mind of a child. The pursuit of pleasure, and
some means of killing time, were the sole end of her
existence. She doted on her daughters, who were as
frivolous as herself.
A general exclamation of satisfaction hailed the arri-
ral of Mr. Percy Noakes, who went threw the ordinary
salutations, and threw himself into an easy-chair near
the ladies' work-table, with the ease of a regularly estab-
lislied friend of the family. Mrs. Taunton was busily
engaged in planting immense bright bows on every part
of a smart cap on which it was possible to stick one ; Miss
Emily Taunton was making a watchguard; Miss Sophia
180
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
was at the piano, practising a new song — poetry by the
young officer, or the police-officer, or the custom-house
officer, or some other interesting amateur.
" You good creature ! " said Mrs. Taunton, addressing
the gallant Percy. " You really are a good soul! You've
come about the water-party, I know."
" I should rather suspect I had," replied Mr. Noakes,
triumphantly. " Now come here, girls, and I'll tell you
all about it.£ Miss Emily and Miss Sophia advanced to
the table.
" Now," continued Mr. Percy Noakes, " it seems to me
that the best way will be, to have a committee of ten, to
make all the arrangements, and manage the whole set-
out. Then, I propose that the expenses shall be paid
by these ten fellows jointly."
" Excellent, indeed ! " said Mrs. Taunton, who highly
approved of this part of the arrangements.
" Then, my plan is, that each of these ten fellows shall
have the power of asking five people. There must be a
meeting of the committee, at my chambers, to make all
the arrangements, and these people shall be then named;
every member of the committee shall have the power of
black-balling any one who is proposed; and one black
ball shall exclude that person. This will insure our
having a pleasant party, you know."
" What a manager you are!" interrupted Mrs.
Taunton again.
" Charming! " said the lovely Emily.
" I never did ! " ejaculated Sophia.
" Yes, I think it'll do," replied Mr. Percy Noakes, who
was now quite in his element. " I think it'll do. Then
you know we shall go down to the Nore, and back, and
have a regular capital cold dinner laid out in the cabin
I
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
181
before we start, so that everything may be ready without
any confusion ; and we shall have the lunch laid out, on
deck, in those little tea-garden-looking concerns by the
paddle-boxes — I don't know what you call 'em. Then,
we shall hire a steamer expressly for our party, and a
band, and have the deck chalked, and we shall be able to
dance quadrilles all day; and then, whoever we know
that's musical, you know, why they'll make themselves
useful and agreeable ; and — and — upon the whole, I
really hope we shall have a glorious day, you know!"
The announcement of these arrangements was received
with the utmost enthusiasm. Mrs. Taunton, Emily, and
Sophia, were loud in their praises.
"Well, but tell me, Percy," said Mrs. Taunton, " who
are the ten gentlemen to be ? "
" Oh! I know plenty of fellows who'll be delighted
with the scheme," replied Mr. Percy Noakes: " of
course we shall have — "
" Mr. Hardy !" interrupted the servant, announcing a
visitor. Miss Sophia and Miss Emily hastily assumed
the most interesting attitudes that could be adopted on
so short a notice.
" How are you ?" said a stout gentleman of about
forty, pausing at the door in the attitude of an awkward
harlequin. This was Mr. Hardy, whom we have before
described, on the authority of Mrs. Stubbs, as " the funny
gentleman." He was an Astley-Cooperish Joe Miller —
a practical joker, immensely popular with married ladies,
and a general favorite with young men. He was always
engaged in some pleasure excursion or other, and de-
lighted in getting somebody into a scrape on such occa-
sions. He could sing comic songs, imitate hackney-
ooachmen and fowls, play airs on his chin, and execute
182
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
concertos on the Jews'-harp. He always ate and drank
most immoderately, and was the bosom-friend of Mr.
Percy Noakes. He had a red face, a somewhat husky
voice, and a tremendous laugh.
" How are you ? " said this worthy, laughing, as if it
were the finest joke in the world to make a morning call,
and shaking hands with the ladies with as much vehe-
mence as if their arms had been so many pump-handles.
" You're just the very man I wanted," said Mr. Percy
Noakes, who proceeded to explain the cause of his being
in requisition.
"Ha! ha! ha!" shouted Hardy, after hearing the
statement, and receiving a detailed account of the pro-
posed excursion. " Oh, capital! glorious ! What a day
it will be ! what fun ! — But, I say, when are you going
to begin making the arrangements ? "
" No time like the present — at once, if you please."
" Oh, charming! " cried the ladies. " Pray, do! "
Writing materials were laid before Mr. Percy Noakes,
and the names of the different members of the committee
were agreed on, after as much discussion between him
and Mr. Hardy as if the fate of nations had depended
on their appointment. It was then agreed that a meet-
ing should take place at Mr. Percy Noakes's chambers
on the ensuing Wednesday evening at eight o'clock, and
the visitors departed.
Wednesday evening arrived; eight o'clock came, and
eight members of the committee were punctual in their
attendance. Mr. Loggins, the solicitor, of Boswell
Court, sent an excuse, and Mr. Samuel Briggs, the ditto
of Furnival's Inn, sent his brother: much to his (the
brother's) satisfaction, and greatly to the discomfiture of
Mr. Percy Noakes. Between the Briggses and the
THE STEAM EXCURSION. 183
Tauntons there existed a degree of implacable hatred,
quite unprecedented. The animosity between the Mon-
tagues and Capulets, was nothing to that which prevailed
between these two illustrious houses. Mrs. Briggs was a
widow, with three daughters and two sons ; Mr. Samuel,
the eldest, was an attorney, and Mr. Alexander, the
youngest, was under articles to his brother. They re-
sided in Portland Street, Oxford Street, and moved in
the same orbit as the Tauntons — hence their mutual
dislike. If the Miss Briggses appeared in smart bonnets,
the Miss Tauntons eclipsed them with smarter. If Mrs.
Taunton appeared in a cap of all the hues of the rain-
bow, Mrs. Briggs forthwith mounted a toque, with all the
patterns of the kaleidoscope. If Miss Sophia Taunton
learnt a new song, two of the Miss Briggses came out
with a new duet. The Tauntons had once gained a tern-
porary triumph with the assistance of a harp, but the
Briggses brought three guitars into the field, and effec-
tually routed the enemy. There was no end to the riv-
airy between them.
Now, as Mr. Samuel Briggs was a mere machine, a
sort of self-acting legal walking-stick; and as the party
was known to have originated, however remotely, with
Mrs. Taunton, the female branches of the Briggs family
had arranged that Mr. Alexander should attend, instead
of his brother; and as the said Mr. Alexander was de-
servedly celebrated tor possessing all the pertinacity of
a bankruptcy-court attorney, combined with the obstinacy
of that useful animal which browses on the thistle, he re-
quired but little tuition. lie was especially enjoined to
make himself as disagreeable as possible; and above all,
to black-ball the Tauntons at every hazard.
The proceedings of the evening were opened by Mr.
184
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Percy Noakes. After successfully urging on the gentle-
men present the propriety of their mixing some brandy-
and-water, he briefly stated the object of the meeting
and concluded by observing that the first step must be
the selection of a chairman, necessarily possessing some
arbitrary — he trusted not unconstitutional — powers, to
whom the personal direction of the whole of the arrange-
ments (subject to the approval of the committee) should
be confided. A pale young gentleman, in a green stock
and spectacles of the same, a member of the honorable
society of the Inner Temple, immediately rose for Ihe
purpose of proposing Mr. Percy Noakes. He had known
him long, and this he would say, that a more honorable,
a more excellent, or a better-hearted fellow, never ex-
isted. — (Hear, hear !) The young gentleman, who was
a member of a debating society, took this opportunity of
entering into an examination of the state of the English
law, from the days of William the Conqueror down to
the present period ; he briefly adverted to the code es-
tablisbed by the ancient Druids ; slightly glanced at the
principles laid down by the Athenian lawgivers; and
concluded with a most glowing eulogium on picnics and
constitutional rights.
Mr. Alexander Briggs opposed the motion. He had
the highest esteem for Mr. Percy Noakes as an individ-
ual, but he did consider that he ought not to be intrusted
with these immense powers—(oh, oh!)—He believed
that in the proposed capacity Mr. Percy Noakes would
Dot act fairly, impartially, or honorably; but he begged
it to be distinctly understood, that he said this without
the slightest personal disrespect. Mr. Hardy defended
his honorable friend, in a voice rendered partially unin-
telligible by emotion and brandy-and-water. The prop-
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
185
osition was put to the vote, and there appearing to be only
one dissentient voice, Mr. Percy Noakes was declared
duly elected, and took the chair accordingly.
The business of the meeting now proceeded with
rapidity. The chairman delivered in his estimate of the
probable expense of the excursion, and every one present
subscribed his proportion thereof. The question was
put that " The Endeavor" be hired for the occasion;
Mr. Alexander Briggs moved as an amendment, that the
word " Fly " be substituted for the word " Endeavor;"
but after some debate consented to withdraw his opposi-
tion. The important ceremony of balloting then com-
menced. A tea-caddy was placed on a table in a dark
corner of the apartment, and every one was provided
with two backgammon men, one black and one white.
The chairman with great solemnity then read the fol-
lowing list of the guests whom he proposed to introduce:
— Mrs. Taunton and two daughters, Mr. Wizzle, Mr
Simson. The names were respectively balloted for, and
Mrs. Taunton and her daughters were declared to be
black-balled. Mr. Percy Noakes and Mr. Hardy ex-
changed glances.
" Is your list prepared, Mr. Briggs ?" inquired the
chairman.
"It is," replied Alexander, delivering in the follow-
ing: " Mrs. Briggs and three daughters, Mr. Samuel
Briggs." The previous ceremony was repeated, and
Mrs. Briggs and three daughters were declared to be
black balled. Mr. Alexander Briggs looked rather fool-
isb, and the remainder of the company appeared some-
what overawed by the mysterious nature of the proceed
ings.
The balloting proceeded ; but, one little circumstance
186
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
which Mr. Percy Noakes had not originally foreseen,
prevented the system from working quite as well as he
had anticipated. Everybody was black-balled. Mr.
Alexander Briggs, by way of retaliation, exercised his
power of exclusion in every instance, and the result was,
that after three hours had been consumed in hard bal-
loting, the names of only three gentlemen were found to
have been agreed to. In this dilemma what was to be
done ? either the whole plan must fall to the ground, or
a compromise must be effected. The latter alternative
was preferable; and Mr. Percy Noakes therefore pro-
posed that the form of balloting should be dispensed
with, and that every gentleman should merely be re-
quired to state whom he intended to bring. The pro-
posal was acceded to; the Tauntons and the Briggses
were reinstated ; and the party was formed.
The next "Wednesday was fixed for the eventful day,
and it was unanimously resolved that every member of
the committee should wear a piece of blue sarsenet
ribbon round his left arm. It appeared from the state-
ment of Mr. Percy Noakes, that the boat belonged to
the General Steam Navigation Company, and was then
lying off the Custom House ; and, as he proposed that
the dinner and wines should be provided by an eminent
city purveyor, it was arranged that Mr. Percy Noakes
should be on board by seven o'clock to superintend the
arrangements, and that the remaining members of the
committee, together with the company generally, should
be expected to join her by nine o'clock. More brandy-
and-water was despatched; several speeches were made
by the different law students present; thanks were voted
to the chairman ; and the meeting separated.
The weather had been beautiful up to this period, and
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
1U7
beautiful it continued to be. Sunday passed over, and
Mr. Percy Noakes became unusually fidgety — rushing,
constantly, to and from the Steam Packet Wharf, to the
astonishment of the clerks, and the great emolument of
the Holborn cabmen. Tuesday arrived, and the anxiety
of Mr. Percy Noakes knew no bounds. He was every
instant running to the window, to look out for clouds ;
and Mr. Hardy astonished the whole square by practis-
ing a new comic song for the occasion, in the chairman's
chambers.
Uneasy were the slumbers of Mr. Percy Noakes that
night; he tossed and tumbled about, and had confused
dreams of steamers starting off, and gigantic clocks with
the hands pointing to a quarter past nine, and the ugly
face of Mr. Alexander Briggs looking over the boat's
side, and grinning, as if in derision of his fruitless at-
tempts to move. He made a violent effort to get on
board, and awoke. The bright sun was shining cheer-
fully into the bedroom, and Mr. Percy Noakes started up
for his watch, in the dreadful expectation of finding his
worst dreams realized.
It was just five o'clock. He calculated the time — he
should be a good half-hour dressing himself; and as it
was a lovely morning, and the tide would be then run-
ning down, he would walk leisurely to Strand Lane, and
have a boat to the Custom House.
He dressed himself, took a hasty apology for a break-
fast, and sallied forth. The streets looked as lonely and
deserted as if they had been crowded, overnight, for the
last time. Here and there, an early apprentice, with
quenched-looking sleepy eyes, was taking down the shut-
ters of a shop ; and a policeman or milk-woman might
jccasionally be seen pacing slowly along; but the ser
188
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
rants had not yet begun to clean the doors, or light the
kitchen fires, and London looked the picture of desola-
tion. At the corner of a by-street, near Temple Bar
was stationed a " street-breakfast." The coffee was
boiling over a charcoal fire, and large slices of bread and
butter were piled one upon the other, like deals in a
timber-yard. The company were seated on a form,
which, with a view both to security and comfort, was
placed against a neighboring wall. Two young men,
whose uproarious mirth and disordered dress bespoke
the conviviality of the preceding evening, were treating
three " ladies " and an Irish laborer. A little sweep was
standing at a short distance, casting a longing eye at the
tempting delicacies ; and a policeman was watching the
group from the opposite side of the street. The wan
looks and gaudy finery of the thinly-clad women con-
trasted as strangely with the gay sunlight as did their
forced merriment with the boisterous hilarity of the two
young men, who, now and then, varied their amusements
by " bonneting" the proprietor of this itinerant coffee-
house.
Mr. Percy Noakes walked briskly by, and when he
turned down Strand Lane, and caught a glimpse of the
glistening water, he thought he had never felt so impor-
tant or so happy in his life.
" Boat, sir!" cried one of the three watermen who
were mopping out their boats, and all whistling. " Boat,
sir!"
" No," replied Mr. Percy Noakes, rather sharply ; for
the inquiry was not made in a manner at all suitable to
his dignity.
"Would you prefer a wessel, sir ? " inquired another,
o the infinite delight of the " Jack-in-the-water."
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
Mr. Percy Noakes replied with a look of supreme
contempt.
" Did you want to be put on board a steamer, sir ? "
inquired an old fireman-waterman, very confidentially.
He was dressed in a faded red suit, just the color of the
cover of a very old Court-Guide.
"Yes, make haste — the Endeavor — off the Custom
House."
" Endeavor! " cried the man who had convulsed the
" Jack " before. " Yy, I see the Endeavor go up half an
hour ago."
" So did I," said another; " and I should think she'd
gone down by this time, for she's a precious sight too full
of ladies and gen'lemen."
Mr. Percy Noakes affected to disregard these represen-
tations, and stepped into the boat, which the old man, by
dint of scrambling, and shoving, and grating, had brought
up to the causeway. ".Shove her off! " cried Mr. Percy
Noakes, and away the boat glided down the river; Mr.
Percy Noakes seated on the recently mopped seat, and
the watermen at the stairs offering to bet any reasonable
sum that he'd never reach the " Custum-us."
" Here she is, by Jove ! " said the delighted Percy, as
they ran alongside the Endeavor.
" Hold hard! " cried the steward over the side, and
Mr. Percy Noakes jumped on board.
" Hope you will find everything as you wished, sir
She looks uncommon well this morning."
" She does, indeed," replied the manager, in a state of
ecstasy which it is impossible to describe. The deck
was scrubbed, and the seats were scrubbed, and there
was a bench for the band, and a place for dancing, and a
pile of camp-stools, and an awning; and then Mr. Percy
190
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Noakes bustled down below, and there were the pastry-
cook's men, and the steward's wife, laying out the dinner
on two tables the whole length of the cabin; and then,
Mr. Percy Noakes took off his coat, and rushed back-
wards and forwards, doing nothing, but quite convinced
he was assisting everybody; and the steward's wife
laughed till she cried, and Mr. Percy Noakes panted
with the violence of his exertions. And then, the bell
at London Bridge Wharf rang ; and a Margate boat was
just starting; and a Gravesend boat was just starting,
and people shouted,* and porters ran down the steps with
luggage that would crush any men but porters; and
sloping boards, with bits of wood nailed on them were
placed between the outside boat and the inside boat; and
the passengers ran along them, and looked like so many
fowls coming out of an area ; and then the bell ceased,
and the boards were taken away, and the boats started,
and the whole scene was one of the most delightful bus-
tie and confusion.
The time wore on; half-past eight o'clock arrived : the
pastrycook's men went ashore; the dinner was com-
pletely laid out; and Mr. Percy Noakes locked the prin-
cipal cabin, and put the key in his pocket, in order that
it might be suddenly disclosed, in all its magnificence, to
the eyes of the astonished company. The band came on
board and so did the wine.
Ten minutes to nine, and the committee embarked in
a body. There was Mr. Hardy, in a blue jacket and
waistcoat, white trousers, silk stockings, and pumps—in
full aquatic costume, with a straw hat on his head, and
an immense telescope under his arm ; and there was the
young gentleman with the green spectacles, with nan-
keen inexplicables, with a ditto waistcoat and bright but-
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
191
tons, like the pictures of Paul — not the saint, but he of
Virginia notoriety. The remainder of the committee,
dressed in white hats, light jackets, waistcoats, and
trousers, looked something between waiters and West
India planters.
Nine o'clock struck, and the company arrived in
shoals. Mr. Samuel Briggs, Mrs. Briggs, and the
Misses Briggs, made their appearance in a smart private
wherry. The three guitars, in their respective dark
green cases, were carefully stowed away in the bottom
of the boat, accompanied by two immense portfolios of
music, which it would take at least a week's incessant
playing to get through. The Tauntons arrived at the
same moment with more music, and a lion — a gentle-
man with a bass voice and an incipient red moustache.
The colors of the Taunton party were pink ; those of
the Briggses a light blue. The Tauntons had artificial
flowers in their bonnets ; here the Briggses gained a
decided advantage — they wore feathers.
" How d'ye do, dear ? " said the Misses Briggs to the
Misses Taunton. (The word " dear " among girls is fre-
quently synonymous with " wretch.")
" Quite well, thank you, dear," replied the Misses
Taunton to the Misses Briggs; and then there was
such a kissing, and congratulating, and shaking of hands,
as might have induced one to suppose that the two fam-
ilies were the best friends in the world, instead of each
wishing the other overboard, as they most sincerely did.
Mi\ Percy Noakes received the visitors, and bowed to
the strange gentleman, as if he should like to know who
he was. This was just what Mrs. Taunton wanted.
Here was an opportunity to astonish the Briggses.
" Oh! I beg your pardon," said the general of the
192
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Taunton party, with a careless air. —" Captain Helves
— Mr. Percy Noakes — Mrs. Briggs — Captain Helves."
Mr. Percy Noakes bowed very low ; the gallant cap-
tain did the same with all due ferocity, and the Briggses
were clearly overcome.
"Our friend, Mr. Wizzle, being unfortunately pre-
vented from coming," resumed Mrs. Taunton, " I did my-
self the pleasure of bringing the captain, whose musical
talents I knew would be a great acquisition."
" In the name of the committee I have to thank you
for doing so, and to offer you welcome, sir," replied
Percy. (Here the scraping was renewed.) " But pray
be seated — won't you walk aft ? Captain, will you
conduct Miss Taunton ? — Miss Briggs, will you allow
me ? "
" Where could they have picked up that military
man ? " inquired Mrs. Briggs of Miss Kate Briggs, as
they followed the little party.
" I can't imagine, replied Miss Kate, bursting with
vexation; for the very fierce air with which the gallant
captain regarded the company had impressed her with a
high sense of his importance.
Boat after boat came alongside, and guest after guest
arrived. The invites had been excellently arranged:
Mr. Percy Noakes having considered it as important that
the number of young men should exactly tally with that
of the young ladies, as that the quantity of knives on
board should be in precise proportion to the forks.
" Now, is every one on board ?" inquired Mr. Percy
Noakes. The committee (who, with their bits of blue
ribbon, looked as if they were all going to be bled) bus-
tied about to ascertain the fact, and reported that they
might safely start.
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
193
" Go on ! " cried the master of the boat from the top
of one of tiie paddle-boxes.
" Go on ! " echoed the boy, who was stationed over the
hatchway to pass the directions down to the engineer;
and away went the vessel with that agreeable noise
which is peculiar to steamers, and which is composed
of a mixture of creaking, gushing, clanging, and snort-
ing.
"Hoi—oi—oi—oi—oi—oi—o—i—i—i!" shouted half
a dozen voices from a boat, a quarter of a mile astern.
" Ease her! " cried the captain : " do these people be-
long to us, sir ? "
" Noakes," exclaimed Hardy, who had been looking at
every object, far and near, through the large telescope,
" it's the Fleetwoods and the Wakefields — and two
children with them, by Jove!"
" What a shame to bring children ! " said everybody ;
" how very inconsiderate ! "
" I say, it would be a good joke to pretend not to see
'em, wouldn't it ? " suggested Hardy, to the immense de-
light of the company generally. A council of war was
hastily held, and it was resolved that the new comers
should be taken on board, on Mr. Hardy's solemnly
pledging himself to tease the children during the whole
of the day.
" Stop her!" cried the captain.
" Stop her!" repeated the boy ; whizz went the steam,
and all the young ladies, as in duty bound, screamed in
concert. They were only appeased by the assurance of
the martial Helves, that the escape of steam consequent
on stopping a vessel was seldom attended with any great
loss of human life.
Two men ran to the side; and after some shouting,
VOL. II. 13
194
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
and swearing, and angling for the wherry with a boat-
hook, Mr. Fleetwood, and Mrs. Fleetwood, and Master
Fleetwood, and Mr. Wakefield, and Mrs. Wakefield, and
Miss Wakefield, were safely deposited on the deck. The
girl was about six years old, the boy about four; the
former was dressed in a white frock with a pink sash
and dog's-eared-looking little spencer: a straw bonnet
and green veil, six inches by three and a half; the latter
was attired for the occasion in a nankeen frock, between
the bottom of which, and the top of his plaid socks, a
considerable portion of two small mottled legs was dis-
cernible. He had a light blue cap with a gold band and
tassel on his head, and a damp piece of gingerbread in
his hand, with which he had slightly embossed his coun-
tenance.
The boat once more started off; the band played " Off
she goes ;" the major part of the company conversed
cheerfully in groups ; and the old gentlemen walked up
and down the deck in pairs, as perseveringly and gravely
as if they were doing a match against time for an im-
mense stake. They ran briskly down the Pool; the
gentlemen pointed out the Docks, the Thames Police
Office, and other elegant public edifices; and the young
ladies exhibited a proper display of horror at the appear-
ance of the coal-whippers and ballast-heavers. Mr.
Hardy told stories to the married ladies, at which they
laughed very much in their pocket-handkerchiefs, and
hit him on the knuckles with their fans, declaring him to
be " a naughty man — a shocking creature " — and so
forth ; and Captain Helves gave slight descriptions of
battles, and duels, with a most bloodthirsty air, which
made him the admiration of the women, and the envy
of the men. Quadrilling commenced ; Captain Helves
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
195
danced one set with Miss Emily Taunton, and another
set with Miss Sophia Taunton. Mrs. Taunton was in
ecstasies. The victory appeared to be complete; but
alas! the inconstancy of man ! Having performed this
necessary duty, he attached himself solely to Miss Julia
Briggs, with whom he danced no less than three sets
consecutively, and from whose side he evinced no inten-
tion of stirring for the remainder of the day.
Mr. Hardy, having played one or two very brilliant
fantasias on the Jews'-harp, and having frequently re-
peated the exquisitely amusing joke of slyly chalking a
large cross on the back of some member of the com-
mittee, Mr. Percy Noakes expressed his hope that some
of their musical friends would oblige the company by a
display of their abilities.
" Perhaps," he said in a very insinuating manner,
" Captain Helves will oblige us ?" Mrs. Taunton's
countenance lighted up, for the captain only sang duets,
and couldn't sing them with anybody but one of her
daughters.
" Really," said that warlike individual, " I should be
very happy, but — "
" Oh ! pray do," cried all the young ladies.
"Miss Sophia, have you any objection to join in a
duet ? "
" Oh ! not the slightest;" returned the young lady, in
a tone which clearly showed she had the greatest possible
objection.
" Shall I accompany you, dear ? " inquired one of the
Miss Briggses, with the bland intention of spoiling the
effect.
"Very much obliged to you, Miss Briggs, sharply
retorted Mrs. Taunton, who saw through the manoeu
196
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
vre; tt my ■daughters always sing without aceompani-
ments."
" And without voices," tittered Mrs. Briggs, in a low
tone.
" Perhaps," said Mrs. Taunton, reddening, for she
guessed the tenor of the observation, though she had not
heard it clearly — " Perhaps it would be as well for some
people, if their voices were not quite so audible as they
are to other people."
" And, perhaps, if gentlemen who are kidnapped to
pay attention to some persons' daughters, had not suffi-
eient discernment to pay attention to other persons'
daughters," returned Mrs. Briggs, " some persons would
not be so ready to display that ill-temper which, thank
(rod, distinguishes them from other persons."
" Persons ! " ejaculated Mrs. Taunton.
" Persons," replied Mrs. Briggs.
" Insolence!"
" Creature!"
" Hush ! hush!" interrupted Mr. Percy Noakes, who
was one of the very few by whom this dialogue had been
overheard. " Hush ! — pray, silence for the duet."
After a great deal of preparatory crowing and hum-
ming, the captain began the following duet from the
opera of " Paul and Virginia," in that grunting tone in
which a man gets down, Heaven knows where, without
the remotest chance of ever getting up again. This, in
private circles, is frequently designated " a bass voice."
" See (sung the captain) from o—ce—an ri—sing
Bright flames the or—b of d—ay.
From yon gro—ove, the varied so—ongs— "
Here, the singer was interrupted by varied cries of
the most dreadful description, proceeding from some
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
197
grove in the immediate vicinity of the starboard paddle-
box.
" My child ! " screamed Mrs. Fleetwood. " My child!
it is his voice — I know it."
Mr. Fleetwood, accompanied by several gentlemen,
here rushed to the quarter from whence the noise pro-
ceeded, and an exclamation of horror burst from the
company •, the general impression being, that the little
innocent had either got his head in the water, or his legs
in the machinery.
" What is the matter ?" shouted the agonized father,
as he returned with the child in his arms.
" Oh ! oh ! oh !" screamed the small sufferer again.
" What is the matter, dear ? " inquired the father, once
more — hastily stripping off the nankeen frock, for the
purpose of ascertaining whether the child had one bone
which was not smashed to pieces.
" Oh ! oh! — I'm so frightened ! "
" What at, dear ? — what at ? " said the mother, sooth-
ing the sweet infant.
" Oh ! he's been making such dreadful faces at me,"
cried the boy, relapsing into convulsions at the bare
recollection.
" He ! — who ? " cried everybody, crowding round
him.
'• Oh !— him !" replied the child, pointing at Hardy,
who affected to be the most concerned of the whole
group.
The real state of the case at once flashed upon the
minds of all present, with the exception of the Fleet-
woods and the Wakefields. The facetious Hardy, in ful-
filment of his promise, had watched the child to a remote
part of the vessel, and, suddenly appearing before him
198
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
with the most awful contortions of visage, had produced
his paroxysm of terror. Of course, he now observed
that it was hardly necessary for him to deny the accusa-
tion; and the unfortunate little victim was accordingly
led below,, after receiving sundry thumps on the head
from both his parents, for having the wickedness to tell
a story.
This little interruption having been adjusted, the cap-
tain resumed, and Miss Emily chimed in, in due course.
The duet was loudly applauded, and, certainly, the per-
feet independence of the parties deserved great commen-
dation. Miss Emily sung her part, without the slightest
reference to the captain ; and the captain sang so loud,
that he had not the slightest idea what was being done
by his partner. After having gone through the last
few eighteen or nineteen bars by himself, therefore, he
acknowledged the plaudits of the circle with that air of
self-denial which men usually assume when they think
they have done something to astonish the company.
" Now," said Mr. Percy Noakes, who had just as-
cended from the fore-cabin, where he had been busily
engaged in decanting the wine, " if the Misses Briggs
will oblige us with something before dinner, I am sure
we shall be very much delighted."
One of those hums of admiration followed the sugges-
tion, which one frequently hears in society, when nobody
has the most distant notion what he is expressing his ap-
proval of. The three Misses Briggs looked modestly at
their mamma, and the mamma looked approvingly at
her daughters, and Mrs. Taunton looked scornfully at all
of them. The Misses Briggs asked for their guitars,
and several gentlemen seriously damaged the cases in
their anxiety to present them. Then, there was a very
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
199
interesting production of three little keys for the afore-
said cases, and a melodramatic expression of horror at
finding a string broken; and a vast deal of screwing and
tightening, and winding, and tuning, during which Mrs.
Briggs expatiated to those near her on the immense diffi-
culty of playing a guitar, and hinted at the wondroi s
proficiency of her daughters in that mystic art. Mrs
Taunton whispered to a neighbor that it was "quite
sickening!" and the Misses Taunton looked as if they
knew how to play, but disdained to do it.
At length, the Misses Briggs began in real earnest.
It was a new Spanish composition, for three voices and
three guitars. The effect was electrical. All eyes were
turned upon the captain, who was reported to have once
passed through Spain with his regiment, and who must
be well acquainted with the national music. He was in
raptures. This was sufficient; the trio was encored;
the applause was universal; and never had the Taun-
tons suffered such a complete defeat
" Bravo! bravo!" ejaculated the captain ; — " Bravo!"
" Pretty ! isn't it, sir ? " inquired Mr. Samuel Briggs,
with the air of a self-satisfied showman. By the by,
these were the first words he had been heard to utter
since he left Boswell Court the evening before.
" De—lightful! " returned the captain, with a flourish,
and a military cough ; — " de—lightful! "
" Sweet instrument?" said an old gentleman with a
bald head, who had been trying all the morning to look
through a telescope, inside the glass of which Mr. Hardy
had fixed a large black wafer.
" Did you ever hear a Portuguese tambourine ?" in-
quired that jocular individual.
« Did you ever hear a tom-tom, sir ? " sternly inquired
200
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
the captain, who lost no opportunity of showing off his
travels, real or pretended.
" A what ? " asked Hardy, rather taken aback.
" A tom-tom."
" Never!"
" Nor a gum-gum ? "
" Never!"
" What is a gum-gum ?" eagerly inquired several
young ladies.
" When I was in the East Indies," replied the captain.
(Here was a discovery — he had been in the East In-
dies!) — " when I was in the East Indies, I was once
stopping, a few thousand miles up the country, on a visit
at the house of a very particular friend of mine, Earn
Chowdar Doss Azuph A1 Bowlar — a devilish pleasant
fellow. As we were enjoying our hookahs, one evening,
in the cool verandah in front of his villa, we were rather
surprised by the sudden appearance of thirty-four of his
Kit-ma-gars (for he had rather a large establishment
there), accompanied by an equal number of Con-su-mars,
approaching the house with a threatening aspect, and
beating a tom-tom. The Ram started up — "
" Who ? " inquired the bald gentleman, intensely in-
terested.
" The Ram — Ram Chowdar — "
" Oh ! " said the old gentleman, " I beg your pardon :
pray go on."
" — Started up and drew a pistol. ' Helves,' said he,
' my boy,' — he always called me, my boy —' Helves,'
said he, 'do you hear that tom-tom ?' 'I do,' said I.
His countenance, which before was pale, assumed a most
frightful appearance ; his whole visage was distorted, and
his frame shaken by violent emotions. ' Do you see that
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
201
gum-gum ?' said he. ' No,' said I, staring about me.
' You don't ? ' said he. ' No, I'll be damned if I do,'
said I; ' and what's more, I don't know what a gum-
gum is,' said I. I really thought the Ram would have
dropped. He drew me aside, and with an expression
of agony I shall never forget, said in a low whisper — "
" Dinner's on the table, ladies," interrupted the stew-
ard's wife.
" Will you allow me ? " said the captain, immediately
suiting the action to the word, and escorting Miss Julia
Briggs to the cabin, with as much ease as if he had
finished the story.
" What an extraordinary circumstance ! " ejaculated
the same old gentleman, preserving his listening atti-
tude.
" What a traveller!" said the young ladies.
" What a singular name! " exclaimed the gentlemen,
rather confused by the coolness of the whole affair.
" I wish he had finished the story," said an old lady.
" I wonder what a gum-gum really is ? "
" By Jove! " exclaimed Hardy, who until now had
been lost in utter amazement, " I don't know what it may
be in India, but in England I think a gum-gum has very
much the same meaning as a hum-bug."
" How illiberal; how envious! " cried everybody, as
they made for the cabin, fully impressed with a belief in
the captain's amazing adventures. Helves was the sole
lion for the remainder of the day — impudence and the
marvellous are pretty sure passports to any society.
The party had by this time reached their destination,
and put about on their return home. The wind, which had
been with them the whole day, was now directly in their
teeth ; the weather had become gradually more and more
202
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
overcast; and the sky, water, and shore, were all of that
dull, heavy, uniform lead-color, which house-painters
daub in the first instance over a street-door which is
gradually approaching a state of convalescence. It had
been " spitting" with rain for the last half-hour, and
now began to pour in good earnest. The wind was
freshening very fast, and the waterman at the wheel had
unequivocally expressed his opinion that there would
shortly be a squall. A slight emotion on the part of the
vessel, now and then, seemed to suggest the possibility of
its pitching to a very uncomfortable extent in the event
of its blowing harder ; and every timber began to creak,
as if the boat were an over-laden clothes-basket. Sea-
sickness, however, is like a belief in ghosts — every one
entertains some misgivings on the subject, but few will
acknowledge any. The majority of the company, there-
fore, endeavored to look peculiarly happy, feeling all the
while especially miserable.
" Don't it rain ?" inquired the old gentleman before
noticed, when, by dint of squeezing and jamming, they
were all seated at table.
" I think it does — a little," replied Mr. Percy Noakes,
who could hardly hear himself speak, in consequence of
the pattering on the deck.
" Don't it blow ? " inquired some one else.
"No — I don't think it does," responded Hardy, sin-
cerely wishing that he could persuade himself that it did
not: for he sat near the door, and was almost blown off
his seat.
"It'll soon clear up," said Mr. Percy Noakes, in a
cheerful tone.
" Oh, certainly ! " ejaculated the committee, generally.
" No doubt of it! " said the remainder of the com-
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
208
pany, whose attention was now pretty well engrossed by
the serious business of eating, carving, taking wine, and
so forth.
The throbbing motion of the engine was but too per-
ceptible. There was a large, substantial, cold boiled leg
of mutton, at the bottom of the table shaking like blanc-
mange ; a previously hearty sirloin of beef looked as if
it had been suddenly seized with the palsy; and some
tongues, which were placed on dishes rather too large
for them, went through the most surprising evolutions;
darting from side to side, and from end to end, like a fly
in an inverted wine-glass. Then, the sweets shook and
trembled, till it was quite impossible to help them, and
people gave up the attempt in despair; and the pigeon-
pies looked as if the birds, whose legs were stuck out-
side, were trying to get them in. The table vibrated and
started like a feverish pulse, and the very legs were con-
vulsed — everything was shaking and jarring. The
beams in the roof of the cabin seemed as if they were
put there for the sole purpose of giving people headaches,
and several elderly gentlemen became ill-tempered in
consequence. As fast as the steward put the fire-irons
up, they would fall down again ; and the more the ladies
and gentlemen tried to sit comfortably on their seats, the
more the seats seemed to slide away from the ladies and
gentlemen. Several ominous demands were made for
small glasses of brandy; the countenances of the com-
pany gradually underwent most extraordinary changes ;
one gentleman was observed suddenly to rush from table
without the slightest ostensible reason, and dart up the
steps with incredible swiftness : thereby greatly damag-
ing both himself and the steward, who happened to be
eoming down at the same moment.
204
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
The cloth was removed; the dessert was laid on the
table; and the glasses were filled. The motion of the
boat increased; several members of the party began to
feel rather vague and misty, and looked as if they had
only just got up. The young gentleman with the spec-
tacles, who had been in a fluctuating state for some time
— at one moment bright, and at another dismal, like a
revolving light on the sea-coast — rashly announced his
wish to propose a toast. After several ineffectual
attempts to preserve his perpendicular, the young gen-
tleman, having managed to hook himself to the centre
leg of the table with his left hand, proceeded as fol-
lows:
" Ladies and gentlemen. A gentleman is among us
— I may say a stranger — (here some painful thought
seemed to strike the orator; he paused, and looked ex-
tremely odd) whose talents, whose travels, whose cheer-
fulness — "
" I beg your pardon, Edkins," hastily interrupted Mr.
Percy Noakes. — " Hardy, what's the matter ? "
" Nothing," replied the " funny gentleman," who had
just life enough left to utter two consecutive syllables.
" Will you have some brandy ? "
" No ! " replied Hardy in a tone of great indignation,
and looking as comfortable as Temple Bar in a Scotch
mist; " what should I want brandy for ? "
"T" deck?"
mined air, and in a voice which might have been taken
for an imitation of anything; it was quite as much like
a guinea-pig as a bassoon.
" I beg your pardon, Edkins," said the courteous
Percy; " I thought our friend was ill. Pray go on."
This was said with a most deter-
THE STEAM EXCURSION.
205
A pause.
" Pray go on."
" Mr. Edkins is gone," cried somebody.
" I beg your pardon, sir," said the steward, running up
to Mr. Percy Noakes, " I beg your pardon, sir, but the
gentleman as just went on deck — him with the green
spectacles — is uncommon bad, to be sure; and the
young man as played the wiolin says, that unless he has
some brandy he can't answer for the consequences. He
says he has a wife and two children, whose werry sub-
sistence depends on his breaking a wessel, and he
expects to do so every moment. The flageolet's been
werry ill, but he's better, only he's in a dreadful pruspera-
tion."
All disguise was now useless ; the company staggered
on deck ; the gentlemen tried to see nothing but the
clouds ; and the ladies, muffled up in such shawls and
cloaks as they had brought with them, lay about on the
seats, and under the seats, in the most wretched condi-
tion. Never was such a blowing and raining, and pitch-
ing and tossing, endured by any pleasure party before.
Several remonstrances were sent down below, on the
subject of Master Fleetwood, but they were totally un-
heeded in consequence of the indisposition of his natural
protectors. That interesting child screamed at the top
of his voice, until he had no voice left to scream with;
and then, Miss Wakefield began, and screamed for the
remainder of the passage.
Mr. Hardy was observed, some hours afterwards, in
an attitude which induced his friends to suppose that he
was busily engaged in contemplating the beauties of the
deep; tliev only regretted that his taste for the pictu-
resque should lead him to remain so long in a position.
206
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
very injurious at all times, but especially so to an in*
dividual laboring under a tendency of blood to the
head.
The party arrived off the Custom House at about two
o'clock on the Thursday morning, dispirited and worn
out. The Tauntons were too ill to quarrel with the
Briggses, and the Briggses were too wretched to annoy
the Tauntons. One of the guitar-cases was lost on its
passage to a hackney-coach, and Mrs. Briggs has not
scrupled to state that the Tauntons bribed a porter to
throw it down an area. Mr. Alexander Briggs opposes
vote by ballot — he says from personal experience of its
inefficacy; and Mr. Samuel Briggs, whenever he is
asked to express his sentiments on the point, says he has
no opinion on that or any other subject.
Mr. Edkins — the young gentleman in the green spec-
tacles — makes a speech on every occasion on which a
speech can possibly be made : the eloquence of which
can only be equalled by its length. In the event of his
not being previously appointed to a judgeship, it is prob-
able that he will practise as a barrister in the new Cen-
tral Criminal Court.
Captain Helves continued his attention to Miss Julia
Briggs, whom he might possibly have espoused, if it had
not unfortunately happened that Mr. Samuel arrested
him in the way of business, pursuant to instructions
received from Messrs. Scroggins and Payne, whose town-
debts the gallant captain had condescended to collect,
but whose accounts, with the indiscretion sometimes
oeculiar to military minds, he had omitted to keep with
that dull accuracy which custom has rendered necessary.
Mrs. Taunton complains that she has been much de-
ceived in him. He introduced himself to the family on
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 207
board a Gravesend steam-packet, and certainly, there-
fore, ought to have proved respectable.
Mr. Percy Noakes is as light-hearted and careless as
ever.
CHAPTER VIII.
the great winglebury duel.
The little town of Great Winglebury is exactly forty-
two miles and three quarters from Hyde Park corner.
It has a long, straggling, quiet High Street, with a great
black and white clock at a small red Town Hall, half-
way up — a market-place — a cage — an assembly-room
— a church — a bridge — a chapel — a theatre — a
library — an inn — a pump — and a Post-office. Tra-
dition tells of a "Little Winglebury," down some cross-
road about two miles off; and, as a square mass of dirty
paper, supposed to have been originally intended for a
letter, with certain tremulous characters inscribed thereon,
in which a lively imagination might trace a remote re-
semblance to the word " Little," was once stuck up to be
owned in the sunny window of the Great Winglebury
Post-office, from which it only disappeared when it fell
to pieces with dust and extreme old age, there would
appear to be some foundation for the legend. Common
belief is inclined to bestow the name upon a little hole
at the end of a muddy lane about a couple of miles
long, colonized by one wheelwright, four paupers, and a
beer-shop; but even this authority, slight as it is, must
be regarded with extreme suspicion, inasmuch as the
208
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
inhabitants of the hole aforesaid, concur in opining that
it never had any name at all, from the earliest ages down
to the present day.
The Winglebury Arms, in the centre of the High
Street, opposite the small building with the big clock, is
the principal inn of Great Winglebury — the commer-
cial inn, posting-house, and excise-office; the " Blue"
house at every election, and the Judges' house at every
assizes. It is the headquarters of the Gentlemen's
Whist Club of Winglebury Blues (so called in opposi-
tion to the Gentlemen's Whist Club of Winglebury
Buffs, held at the other house, a little further down) ;
and whenever a juggler, or wax-work man, or concert-
giver, takes Great Winglebury in his circuit, it is imme-
diately placarded all over the town that Mr. So-and-so,
" trusting to that liberal support which the inhabitants of
Great Winglebury have long been so liberal in bestowing,
has at a great expense engaged the elegant and commo-
dious assembly-rooms, attached to the Winglebury Arms."
The house is a large one, with a red brick and stone
front; a pretty spacious hall, ornamented with evergreen
plants, terminates in a perspective view of the bar, and
a glass case, in which are displayed a choice variety of
delicacies ready for dressing, to catch the eye of a new-
comer the moment he enters, and excite his appetite to
the highest possible pitch. Opposite doors lead to the
" coffee" and " commercial" rooms ; and a great wide,
rambling staircase, — three stairs and a landing — four
stairs and another landing — one step and another land-
ing — half a dozen stairs and another landing — and so
on — conducts to galleries of bedrooms, and labyrinths
of sitting-rooms, denominated " private," where you may
snjoy yourself, as privately as you can in any place
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 209
where some bewildered being walks into your room
every five minutes, by mistake, and then walks out
again, to open all the doors along the gallery until he
finds his own.
Such is the Winglebury Arms, at this day, and such
was the Winglebury Arms some time since — no matter
when — two or three minutes before the arrival of the
London stage. Four horses with cloths on — change
for a coach -— were standing quietly at the corner of the
yard, surrounded by a listless group of post-boys in shiny
hats and smock-frocks, engaged in discussing the merits
of the cattle; half a dozen ragged boys were standing
a little apart, listening with evident interest to the con-
versation of these worthies; and a few loungers were
collected round the horse-trough, awaiting the arrival of
the coach.
The day was hot and sunny, the town in the zenith of
its dulness, and with the exception of these few idlers,
not a living creature was to be seen. Suddenly the loud
notes of a key-bugle broke the monotonous stillness of
the street; in came the coach, rattling over the uneven
paving with a noise startling enough to stop even the
large-faced clock itself. Down got the outsides, up went
the windows in all directions, out came the waiters, up
started the hostlers, and the loungers, and the post-boys,
and the ragged boys, as if they were electrified — un-
strapping, and unchaining, and unbuckling, and dragging
willing horses out, and forcing reluctant horses in, and
making a most exhilarating bustle. '• Lady inside, here!"
said the guard. " Please to alight, ma'am," said the
waiter. " Private sitting-room?" interrogated the
lady. "Certainly, ma'am," responded the chamber-
maid. "Nothing but these 'ere trunks, ma'am?" in-
vol. n. 14
210
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
quired the guard. "Nothing more," replied the lady.
Up got the outsides again, and the guard, and the coach-
man ; off came the cloths with a jerk, " All right," was
the cry; and away they went. The loungers lingered
a minute or two in the road, watching the coach until
it turned the corner, and then loitered away one by one.
The street was clear again, and the town, by contrast,
quieter than ever.
" Lady in number twenty-five," screamed the landlady.
— " Thomas ! "
" Yes, ma'am."
" Letter just been left for the gentleman in number
nineteen. Boots at the Lion left it. No answer."
"Letter for you, sir," said Thomas, depositing the
letter on number nineteen's table.
" For me ? " said number nineteen, turning from the
window, out of which he had been surveying the scene
just described.
"Yes, sir," — (waiters always speak in hints, and
never utter complete sentences) — " yes, sir, — Boots at
the Lion, sir, — Bar, sir — Missus said number nineteen,
sir — Alexander Trott, Esq., sir ? — your card at the
bar, sir, I think, sir ? "
" My name is Trott," replied number nineteen, break-
ing the seal. " You may go, waitex-." The waiter pulled
down the window-blind, and then pulled it up again —
for a regular waiter must do something before he leaves
the room — adjusted the glasses on the sideboard,
brushed a place that was not dusty, rubbed his hands
very hard, walked stealthily to the door, and evapo-
rated.
There was, evidently, something in the contents of
the letter of a nature, if not wholly unexpected, eer-
the great winglebury duel. 211
tainly extremely disagreeable. Mr. Alexander Trott
laid it down, and took it up again, and walked about the
room on particular squares of the carpet, and even at-
tempted, though unsuccessfully, to whistle an air. It
wouldn't do. He threw himself into a chair, and read
the following epistle aloud : —
" Blue Lion and Stomach-warmer,
Great Winglebury.
Wednesday Morning.
" Sir, — Immediately on discovering your intentions,
*yleft our counting-house, and followed you. I know
the purport of your journey ; — that journey shall never
be completed.
" I have no friend here, just now, on whose secrecy I
can rely. This shall be no obstacle to my revenge.
Neither shall Emily Brown be exposed to the mercenary
solicitations of a scoundrel, odious in her eyes, and con-
temptible in everybody else's : nor will I tamely submit
to the clandestine attacks of a base umbrella-maker.
"Sir. From Great Winglebury church a footpath
leads through four meadows to a retired spot known to
the towns-people as Stiffun's Acre." [Mr. Trott shud-
dered.] " I shall be waiting there alone, at twenty
minutes before six o'clock to-morrow morning. Should
I be disappointed in seeing you there, I will do myself
the pleasure of calling with a horsewhip.
" Horace Hunter.
" PS. There is a gunsmith's in the High Street;
and they won't sell gunpowder after dark — you under-
stand me.
" PPS. You ha 1 better not order your breakfast in
212
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
the morning until you have met me. It may be an
unnecessary expense."
" Desperate-minded villain ! I knew how it would
be!" ejaculated the terrified Trott. " I always told
father, that once start me on this expedition, and Hunter
would pursue me like the Wandering Jew. It's bad
enough as it is, to marry with the old people's com-
mands, and without the girl's consent; but what will
Emily think of me, if I go down there, breathless with
running away from this infernal salamander? What
shall I do ? What can I do ? If I go back to the city/
I'm disgraced forever — lose the girl — and, what's"
more, lose the money too. Even if I did go on to the
Browns' by the coach, Hunter would be after me in a
post-chaise; and if I go to this place, this StifFun's Acre
(another shudder), I'm as good as dead. I've seen him
hit the man at the Pall Mall shooting-gallery in the
second button-hole of the waistcoat, five times out of
every six, and when he didn't hit him there, he hit
him in the head." With this consolatory reminiscence,
Mr. Alexander Trott again ejaculated, " What shall
I do?"
Long and weary were his reflections, as, burying his
face in his hands, he sat ruminating on the best course to
he pursued. His mental direction-post pointed to Lon-
don. He thought of " the governor's " anger, and the
loss of the fortune which the paternal Brown had prom-
ised the paternal Trott his daughter should contribute to
the coffers of his son. Then the words " To Brown's "
were legibly inscribed 011 the said direction-post, but
Horace Hunter's denunciation rung in his ears; — last
of all it bore, in red letters, the words, " To StifFun's
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 213
Acre;" and then Mr. Alexander Trott decided on adopt-
ing a plan which he presently matured.
First and foremost, he despatched the nnder-boots to
the Blue Lion and Stomach-warmer, with a gentlemanly
note to Mr. Horace Hunter, intimating that he thirsted
for his destruction, and would do himself the pleasure
of slaughtering him next morning, without fail. He
then wrote another letter, and requested the attendance
of the other boots — for they kept a pair. A modest
knock at the room-door was heard. " Come in," said
Mr. Trott. A man thrust in a red head with one eye in
it, and being again desired to " come in," brought in the
body and the legs to which the head belonged, and a for
cap which belonged to the head.
" You are the upper-boots, I think ? " inquired Mr.
Trott.
" Yes, I am the upper-hoots," replied a voice from in-
side a velveteen case with mother-of-pearl buttons —
" that is, I'm the boots as b'longs to the house; the
other man's my man, as goes errands, and does odd jobs.
Top-boots and half-boots, I calls us."
" You're from London ? " inquired Mr. Trott.
" Driv a cab once," was the laconic reply.
" Why don't you drive it now ? " asked Mr. Trott.
" Over-driv the cab, and driv over a 'ooman," replied
the top-boots, with brevity.
" Do you know the mayor's house ? " inquired Trott.
" Rather," replied the boots, significantly, as if he had
some good reason to remember it.
" Do you think you could manage to leave a letter
there ? " interrogated Trott.
"Shouldn't wonder," responded boots.
" But this letter," said Trott, holding a deformed note
214
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
with a paralytic direction in one hand, and five shillings
in the other — " this letter is anonymous."
"A — what ? " interrupted the boots.
" Anonymous — he's not to know who it comes from."
" Oh ! I see," responded the reg'lar, with a knowing
wink, but without evincing the slightest disinclination to
undertake the charge — "I see — bit o' Sving, eh ?" and
his one eye wandered round the room, as if in quest of a
dark lantern and phosphorus-box. " But, I say!" he
continued, recalling the eye from its search, and bring-
ing it to bear on Mr. Trott. " I say, he's a lawyer, our
mayor, and insured in the County. If you've a spite
agen him, you'd better not burn his house down —
blessed if I don't think it would be the greatest favor
you could do him." And he chuckled inwardly.
If Mr. Alexander Trott had been in any other situa-
tion, his first act would have been to kick the man down-
stairs by deputy; or, in other words, to ring the bell, and
desire the landlord to take his boots off. He contented
himself, however, with doubling the fee and explaining
that the letter merely related to a breach of the peace.
The top-boots retired, solemnly pledged to secrecy; and
Mr. Alexander Trott sat down to a fried sole, maintenon
cutlet, Madeira, and sundries, with greater composure
than he had experienced since the receipt of Horace
Hunter's letter of defiance.
The lady who alighted from the London coach had no
sooner been installed in number twenty-five, and made
some alteration in her travelling-dress, than she indited a
note to Joseph Overton, esquire, solicitor, and mayor of
Great Winglebury, requesting his immediate attendance
on private business of paramount importance — a sum-
mons which that worthy functionary lost no time in
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 215
obeying; for after sundry openings of his eyes, divers
ejaculations of " Bless me!" and other manifestations of
surprise, he took his broad-brimmed hat from its accus-
tomed peg in his little front office, and walked briskly
down the High Street to the Winglebury Arms; through
the hall and up the staircase of which establishment he
was ushered by the landlady, and a crowd of officious
waiters, to the door of number twenty-five.
" Show the gentleman in," said the stranger lady, in
reply to the foremost waiter's announcement. The gen-
tleman was shown in accordingly.
The lady rose from the sofa; the mayor advanced a
step from the door; and there they both paused, for a
njinute or two, looking at one another as if by mutual
consent. The mayor saw before him a buxom richly-
dressed female of about forty; the lady looked upon a
sleek man, about ten years older, in drab shorts and con-
tinuations, black coat, neckcloth, and gloves.
" Miss Julia Manners ! " exclaimed the mayor at
length, " you astonish me."
" That's very unfair of you, Overton," replied Miss
Julia, " for I have known you, long enough, not to be,
surprised at anything you do, and you might extend
equal courtesy to me."
" But to run away — actually run away — with a
young man!" remonstrated the mayor.
" You wouldn't have me actually run away with an
old one, I presume ? " was the cool rejoinder.
" And then to ask me — me — of all people in the
world—a man of my age and appearance—mayor of
the town — to promote such a scheme ! " pettishly ejacu-
lated Joseph Overton ; throwing himself into an arm-
chair, and producing Miss Julia's letter from his pocket,
216
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
as if to corroborate the assertion that he had been
asked.
" Now, Overton," replied the lady, " I want your
assistance in this matter, and I must have it. In the
lifetime of that poor old dear, Mr. Cornberry, who —
who — "
" Who was to have married you, and didn't, because
he died first; and who left you his property uneneum-
bered with the addition of himself," suggested the mayor.
" Well," replied Miss Julia, reddening slightly, " in the
lifetime of the poor old dear, the property had the incum-
brance of your management; and all I will say of that,
is, that I only wonder it didn't die of consumption in-
stead of its master. You helped yourself then : — help
me now."
Mr. Joseph Overton was a man of the world, and an
attorney ; and as certain indistinct recollections of an
odd thousand pounds or two, appropriated by mistake,
passed across his mind, he hemmed deprecatingly, smiled
blandly, remained silent for a few seconds ; and finally
inquired, " What do you wish me to do,?"
, " I'll tell you," replied Miss Julia —" I'll tell you in
three words. Dear Lord Peter — "
" That's the young man, I suppose — " interrupted the
mayor.
" That's the young Nobleman," replied the lady, with
a great stress on the last word. " Dear Lord Peter is
considerably afraid of the resentment of his family; and
we have therefore thought it better to make the match a
stolen one. He left town, to avoid suspicion, on a visit
to his friend, the Honorable Augustus Flair, whose seat,
as you know, is about thirty miles from this, accompa-
nied only by his favorite tiger. We arranged that I
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 217
should come here alone in the London coach; and that
he, leaving his tiger and cab behind him, should come on,
and arrive here as soon as possible this afternoon."
" Very well," observed Joseph Overton, " and then he
can order the chaise, and you can go on to Gretna Green
together, without requiring the presence or interference
of a third party, can't you ? "
" No," replied Miss Julia. " We have every reason
to believe — dear Lord Peter not being considered very
prudent or sagacious by his friends, and they having dis-
covered his attachment to me — that, immediately on his
absence being observed, pursuit will be made in this di-
rection : to elude which, and to prevent our being traced,
I wish it to be understood in this house, that dear Lord
Peter is slightly deranged, though perfectly harmless ;
and that I am, unknown to him, awaiting his arrival to
convey him in a post-chaise to a private asylum — at
Berwick, say. If I don't show myself much, I dare say
I can manage to pass for his mother."
The thought occurred to the mayor's mind that the
lady might show herself a good deal without fear of
detection ; seeing that she was about double the age of
her intended husband. He said nothing, however, and
the lady proceeded.
" With the whole of this arrangement dear Lord Peter
I's acquainted; and all I want you to do, is, to make the
rlelusion more complete by giving it the sanction of your
influence in this place, and assigning this as a reason to
the people of the house for my taking the young gentle-
man away. As it would not be consistent with the story
that I should see him until after he has entered the
chaise, I also wish you to communicate with, him, and
inform him that it is all going on well."
218
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Has he arrived ? " inquired Overton.
" I don't know," replied the lady.
" Then how am I to know ?" inquired the mayor. " Of
course he will not give his own name at the bar."
" I begged him, immediately on his arrival, to write
you a note," replied Miss Maimers ; " and to prevent the
possibility of our project being discovered through its
means, I desired him to write anonymously, and in mys-
terious terms to acquaint you with the number of his
room."
"Bless me!" exclaimed the mayor, rising from his
seat, and searching his pockets —" most extraordinary
circumstance — he has arrived — mysterious note left at
my house in a most mysterious manner, just before yours
— didn't know what to make of it before, and certainly
shouldn't have attended to it. — Oh ! here it is." And
Joseph Overton pulled out of an inner coat-pocket the
identical letter penned by Alexander Trott. " Is this
his lordship's hand ? "
" Oh yes," replied Julia; " good, punctual creature ! I
have not seen it more than once or twice, but I know he
writes very badly and very large. These dear, wild
young noblemen, you know, Overton — "
"Ay, ay, I see," replied the mayor. — "Horses and
dogs, play and wine — grooms, actresses, and cigars —
the stable, the green-room, the saloon, and the tavern;
and the legislative assembly at last."
" Here's what he says," pursued the mayor ; ' Sir, —
A young gentleman in number nineteen at the Wingle-
bury Arms, is bent on committing a rash act to-morrow
morning at an early hour.' (That's good — he means
marrying.) ' If you have any regard for the peace of
this town, or the preservation of one — it may be two
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 219
— human lives' — What the deuce does he mean by
that?"
" That he's so anxious for the ceremony, he will expire
if it's put off, and that I may possibly do the same, re-
plied the lady with great complacency.
" Oh !. I see — not much fear of that; — well —' two
human lives, you will cause him to be removed to-night.'
(He wants to start at once.) 4 Fear not to do this on
your responsibility: for to-morrow the absolute necessity
of the proceeding will be but too apparent. Remember:
number nineteen. The name is Trott. No delay; for
life and death depend upon your promptitude.' Passion-
ate language, certainly. Shall I see him ? "
" Do," replied Miss Julia ; " and entreat him to act his
part well. I am half afraid of him. Tell him to be
cautious."
" I will," said the mayor.
" Settle all the arrangements."
" I will," said the mayor again.
" And say I think the chaise had better be ordered for
one o'clock."
" Very well," said the mayor once more; and, rumi-
nating on the absurdity of the situation in which fate
and old acquaintance had placed him, he desired a waiter
to herald his approach to the temporary representative
of number nineteen.
The announcement, " Gentleman to speak with you,
sir," induced Mr. Trott to pause half way in the glass of
port, the contents of which he was in the act of imbibing
at the moment; to rise from his chair ; and retreat a few
paces towards the window, as if to secure a retreat, in
the event of the visitor assuming the form and appear-
Mice of Horace Hunter. One glance at Joseph Overton,
220
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
however, quieted his apprehensions. He courteously
motioned the stranger to a seat. . The waiter, after a
little jingling with the decanter and glasses, consented
to leave the room ; and Joseph Overton, placing the
broad-brimmed hat on the chair next him, and bending
his body gently forward, opened the business by saying
in a very low and cautious tone, —
" My lord — "
" Eh ? " said Mr. Alexander Trott, in a loud key, with
the vacant and mystified stare of a chilly somnambulist.
" Hush — hush ! " said the cautious attorney; " to be
sure — quite right — no titles here — my name is Over-
ton, sir."
" Overton ? "
" Yes: the mayor of this place — you sent me a letter
with anonymous information, this afternoon."
" I, sir ?" exclaimed Trott with ill-dissembled sur-
prise; for, coward as he was, he would willingly have
repudiated the authorship of the letter in question. " I,
sir ? "
" Yes, you, sir ; did you not ?" responded Overton,
annoyed with what he supposed to be an extreme degree
of unnecessary suspicion. " Either this letter is yours,
or it is not. If it be, we can converse securely upon the
subject at once. If it be not, of course I have no more
to say."
" Stay, stay," said Trott, " it is mine ; I did write it.
What could I do, sir ? I had no friend here."
" To be sure, to be sure," said the mayor, encourag-
ingly, " you could not have managed it better. Well,
sir; it will be necessary for you to leave here to-night in
a post-chaise and four. And the harder the boys drive,
the better. You are not safje from pursuit."
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 221
" Bless me!" exclaimed Trott, in an agony of appre-
hension, " can such things happen in a country like this ?
Such unrelenting and cold-blooded hostility!" He
wiped off the concentrated essence of cowardice that was
oozing fast down his forehead, and looked aghast at
Joseph Overton.
" It certainly is a very hard case," replied the mayor
with a smile, " that, in a free country, people can't marry
whom they like, without being hunted down as if they
were criminals. However, in the present instance the
lady is willing, you know, and that's the main point, after
all."
" Lady willing!" repeated Trott, mechanically. " How
do you know the lady's willing ? "
" Come, that's a good one," said the mayor, benevo-
lently tapping Mr. Trott on the arm with his broad-
brimmed hat; " I have known her, well, for a long time;
and if anybody could entertain the remotest doubt on
the subject, I assure you I have none, nor need you
have."
" Dear me !" said Mr. Trott, ruminating. " This is
very extraordinary!"
" Well, Lord Peter," said the mayor, rising.
" Lord Peter ? " repeated Mr. Trott.
" Oh — ah, I forgot. Mr. Trott, then — Trott — very
good, ha! ha ! — Well, sir, the chaise shall be ready at
half-past twelve."
" And what is to become of me until then ? " inquired
Mr. Trott, anxiously. " Wouldn't it save appearances,
if I were placed under some restraint ? "
" Ah!" replied Overton, " very good thought — capital
dea indeed. I'll send somebody up directly. And if
you make a little resistance when we put you in the
222
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
chaise, it wouldn't be amiss — look as if you didn't want
to be taken away, you know."
" To be sure," said Trott — " to be sure."
" Well, my lord," said Overton, in a low tone, " until
then, I wish your lordship a good evening."
"Lord — lordship?" ejaculated Trott again, falling
back a step or two, and gazing, in unutterable wonder, on
the countenance of the mayor.
" Ha-ha ! I see, my lord — practising the madman ?
— very good indeed — very vacant look — capital, my
lord, capital — good evening, Mr. — Trott — ha! ha!
ha!"
" That mayor's decidedly drunk," soliloquized Mr.
Trott, throwing himself back in his chair, in an attitude
of reflection.
" He is a much cleverer fellow than I thought him,
that young nobleman — he carries it off uncommonly
well," thought Overton, as he went his way to the bar,
there to complete his arrangements. This was soon
done. Every word of the story was implicitly believed,
and the one-eyed boots was immediately instructed to
repair to number nineteen, to act as custodian of the per-
son of the supposed lunatic until half-past twelve o'clock.
In pursuance of this direction, that somewhat eccentric
gentleman armed himself with a walking-stick of gigan-
tic dimensions, and repaired, with his usual equanimity
of manner, to Mr. Trott's apartment, which he entered
without any ceremony, and mounted guard in, by quietly
depositing himself on a chair near the door, where he
proceeded to beguile the time by whistling a popular air
with great apparent satisfaction.
What do you want here, you scoundrel ? " exclaimed
Mr. Alexander Trott, with a proper appearance of indig-
nation at his detention.
THE GREAT WTNGLEBURY DUEL. 223
The boots beat time with his head, as he looked gently
round at Mr. Trott with a smile of pity, and whistled an
adagio movement.
" Do you attend in this room by Mr. Overton's de-
sire ?" inquired Trott, rather astonished at the man's
demeanor.
" Keep yourself to yourself, young feller/' calmly re-
sponded the boots, " and don't say nothin' to nobody."
And he whistled again.
" Now, mind !" ejaculated Mr. Trott, anxious to keep
up the farce of wishing with great earnestness to fight a
duel if they'd let him.. "I protest against being kept
here. I deny that I have any intention of fighting with
anybody. But, as it's useless contending with superior
numbers, I shall sit quietly down."
" You'd better," observed the placid boots, shaking the
large stick expressively.
"Under protest, however," added Alexander Trott,
seating himself, with indignation in his face, but great
content in his heart. " Under protest."
" Oh, certainly!" responded the boots ; " anything you
please. If you're happy, I'm transported ; only don't
talk too much — it'll make you worse."
" Make me worse ?" exclaimed Trott, in unfeigned
astonishment: " The man's drunk! "
" You'd better be quiet, young feller," remarked the
boots, going through a threatening piece of pantomime
with the stick.
" Or mad !" said Mr. Trott, rather alarmed. " Leave
the room, sir, and tell them to send somebody else."
" Won't do ! " replied the boots.
" Leave the room !" shouted Trott, ringing the bell
violently; for he began to be alarmed on a new score.
224
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Leave that 'ere bell alone, you wretched loo-nattic! *
said the boots, suddenly forcing the unfortunate TroU
back into his chair, and brandishing the stick aloft. " Be
quiet, you mis'rable object, and don't let everybody know
there's a madman in the house."
"He is a madman ! He is a madman !" exclaimed
the terrified Mr. Trott, gazing on the one eye of the red-
headed boots with a look of abject horror.
" Madman ! " replied the boots, " dam'me, I think he
m a madman with a vengeance ! Listen to me, you un-
fort'nate. Ah ! would you ? " [a slight tap on the head
with the large stick, as Mr. Trott made another move
towards the bell-handle] " I caught you there ! did I ? "
" Spare my life !" exclaimed Trott, raising his hands
imploringly.
"I don't want your life," replied the boots, disdain-
fully, " though I think it 'ud be a charity if somebody
took it."
" No, no, it wouldn't," interrupted poor Mr. Trott,
hurriedly ; " no, no, it wouldn't! I — I — 'd rather keep
it!"
" O werry well," said the boots ; " that's a mere mat-
ter of taste — ev'ry one to his liking. Hovvs'ever, all
I've got to say is this here: You sit quietly down in that
chair, and I'll sit hoppersite you here, and if you keep
quiet and don't stir, I won't damage you ; but if you
move hand or foot till half-past twelve o'clock, I shall
alter the expression of your countenance so completely,
that the next time you look in the glass you'll ask vet her
you're gone out of town, and ven you're likely to come
back again. So sit down."
" I will — I will," responded the victim of mistakes,
and down sat Mr. Trott and down sat the boots too, ex-
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 285
actly opposite him, with the stick ready for immediate
action in case of emergency.
Long and dreary were the hours that followed. The
bell of Great Winglebury church had just struck ten,
and two hours and a half would probably elapse before
succor arrived. For half an hour, the noise occasioned
by shutting up the shops in the street beneath, betokened
something like life in the town, and rendered Mr. Trott's
situation a little less insupportable; but, when even these
ceased, and nothing was heard beyond the occasional
rattling of a post-chaise as it drove up the yard to
change horses, and then drove away again, or the clat-
tering of horses' hoofs in the stables behind, it became
almost unbearable. The boots occasionally moved an
inch or two, to knock superfluous bits of wax off the
candles, which were burning low, but instantaneously
resumed his former position; and as he remembered to
have heard, somewhere or other, that the human eye had
an unfailing effect in controlling mad people, he kept his
solitary organ of vision constantly fixed on Mr. Alex-
ander Trott. That unfortunate individual stared at his
companion in his turn, until his features grew more and
more indistinct — his hair gradually less red — and the
room more misty and obscure. Mr. Alexander Trott
fell into a sound sleep, from which he was awakened
by a rumbling in the street, and a cry of " Chaise-and-
four for number twenty-five !" A bustle on the stairs
succeeded ; the room-door was hastily thrown open; and
Mr. Joseph Overton entered, followed by four stout
waiters, and Mrs. Williamson, the stout landlady of the
Winglebury Arms.
*' Mr. Overton!" exclaimed Mr. Alexander Trott,
jumping up in a frenzy, " Look at this man, sir; con*
vol.. n. 15
226
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
sider the situation in which I have been placed for three
hours past — the person you sent to guard me, sir, was
a madman — a madman — a raging, ravaging, furious
madman."
" Bravo !" whispered Overton.
" Poor dear!" said the compassionate Mrs. Wil-
liamson, " mad people always thinks other people's
mad."
" Poor dear!" ejaculated Mr. Alexander Trott," What
the devil do you mean by poor dear! Are you the land-
lady of this house ? "
"Yes, yes," replied the stout old lady, "don't exert
yourself, there's a dear! Consider your health, now;
do."
• "Exert myself!" shouted Mr. Alexander Trott, "it's
a mercy, ma'am, that I have any breath to exert myself
with! I might have been assassinated three hours ago
by that one-eyed monster with the oakum head. How
dare you have a madman, ma'am, how dare you have
a madman, to assault and terrify the visitors to your
house ?"
" I'll never have another," said Mrs. Williamson, cast-
ing a look of reproach at the mayor.
" Capital, capital," whispered Overton again, as he
enveloped Mr. Alexander Trott in a thick travelling-
cloak,
" Capital, sir!" exclaimed Trott, aloud, " it's horrible.
The very recollection makes me shudder. I'd rather
fight four duels in three hours, if I survived the first
three, than I'd sit for that time face to face with a
madman."
" Keep it up, my Lord, as you go down-stairs," wliis-
pered Overton, " your bill is paid, and your portmanteau
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 287
in the chaise." And then, he added aloud, " Now, waifr
ers, the gentleman's ready."
At this signal, the waiters crowded round Mr. Alex-
ander Trott. One, took one arm ; another, the other ; a
third, walked before with a candle; the fourth, behind,
with another candle: the boots and Mrs. Williamson
brought up the rear; and down-stairs they went: Mr.
Alexander Trott, expressing alternately at the very top
of his voice either his feigned reluctance to go, or his
unfeigned indignation at being shut up with a madman.
Mr. Overton was waiting at the chaise-door, the boys
were ready mounted, and a few hostlers and stable nonde-
scripts were standing round to witness the departure of
" the mad gentleman." Mr. Alexander Trott's foot was
on the step, when he observed (which the dim light had
prevented his doing before) a figure seated in the chaise,
closely muffled up in a cloak like his own.
" Who's that ? " he inquired of Overton in a whisper.
" Hush, hush," replied the mayor; " the other party
of course."
" The other party ! " exclaimed Trott, with an effort
to retreat.
" Yes, yes ; you'll soon find that out, before you go far,
I should think — but make a noise, you'll excite suspicion
if you whisper to me so much."
" I won't go in this chaise ! " shouted Mr. Alexander
Trott, all his original fears recurring with tenfold vio~
lence. " I shall be assassinated — I shall be — "
" Bravo, bravo," whispered Overton. " I'll push you
in."
« But I won't go," exclaimed Mr. Trott. " Help here,
help ! They're carrying me away against my will. This
is a plot to murder me."
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Poor dear ! " said Mrs. Williamson again.
" Now, boys, put 'em along," cried the mayor, pushing
Trott in and slamming the door. " Off with you, as
quick as you can, and stop for nothing till you come to
the next stage — all right!"
" Horses are paid, Tom," screamed Mrs. Williamson ;
and away went the chaise, at the rate of fourteen miles
an hour, with Mr. Alexander Trott and Miss Julia Man-
ners carefully shut up in the inside.
Mr. Alexander Trott remained coiled up in one corner
of the chaise, and his mysterious companion in the other,
for the first two or three miles ; Mr. Trott edging more
and more into his corner, as he felt his companion gradu-
ally edging more and more from hers; and vainly en-
deavoring in the darkness to catch a glimpse of the
furious face of the supposed Horace Hunter.
"We may speak now," said his fellow-traveller, at
length; "the post-boys can neither see nor hear us."
" That's not Hunter's voice ! " — thought Alexander,
astonished.
" Dear Lord Peter!" said Miss Julia, most winningly:
putting her arm on Mr. Trott's shoulder. " Dear Lord
Peter. Not a word ? "
" Why, it's a woman !" exclaimed Mr. Trott, in a low
tone of excessive wonder.
"Ah! Whose voice is that?" said Julia ; "'tis not
Lord Peter's."
" No, — it's mine," replied Mr. Trott.
" Yours !" ejaculated Miss Julia Manners; " a strange,
man ! Gracious heaven ! How came you here ? "
" Whoever you are, you might have known that I came
against my will, ma'am," replied Alexander, " for I made
noise enough when I got in."
THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. 229
" Do you come from Lord Peter ?" inquired Miss
Manners.
" Confound Lord Peter," replied Trott pettishly. " I
don't know any Lord Peter. I never heard of him be-
fore to-night, when Ive been Lord Peter'd by one and
Lord Peter'd by another, till I verily believe Fm mad,
or dreaming — "
"Whither are we going?" inquired the lady tragi-
cally.
"How should 1 know, ma'am?" replied Trott with
singular coolness; for the events of the evening had
completely hardened him.
" Stop ! stop !" cried the lady, letting down the front
glasses of the chaise.
" Stay, my dear ma'am ! " said Mr. Trott, pulling the
glasses up again with one hand, and gently squeezing
Miss Julia's waist with the other. " There is some mis-
take here ; give me till the end of this stage to explain
my share of it. We must go so far ; you cannot be set
down here alone, at tliis hour of the night."
The lady consented; the mistake was mutually ex-
plained, Mr. Trott was a young man, had highly promis-
ing whiskers, an undeniable tailor, and an insinuating
address — he wanted nothing but valor, and who wants
that with three thousand a year? The lady had this,
and more; she wanted a young husband, and the only
course open to Mr. Trott to retrieve his disgrace was a
rich wife. So, they came to the conclusion that it would
be a pity to have all this trouble and expense for noth-
ing; and that as they were so far on the road already,
they had better go to Gretna Green, and marry each
other; and they did so. And the very next preceding
entry in the Blacksmith's book, was an entry of the mar-
280
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
riage of Emily Brown with Horace Hunter. Mr. Hun«
ter took his wife home, and begged pardon, and was par-
doned ; and Mr. Trott took his wife home, begged pardon
too, and was pardoned also. And Lord Peter, who had
been detained beyond his time by drinking champagne
and riding a steeple-chase, went back to the Honorable
Augustus Flair's and drank more champagne, and rode
another steeple-chase, and was thrown and killed. And
Horace Hunter took great credit to himself for practis-
ing on the cowardice of Alexander Trott; and all these
circumstances were discovered in time, and carefully
noted down ; and if you ever stop a week at the Wingle-
bury Arms, they will give you just this account of The
Great Winglebury Duel.
CHAPTER IX.
mrs. joseph porter.
Most extensive were the preparations at Rose Villa,
Clapham Rise, in the occupation of Mr. Gattleton (a
stockbroker in especially comfortable circumstances), and
great was the anxiety of Mr. Gattleton's interesting
family, as the day fixed for the representation of the
Private Play which had been " many months in prepara-
tion," approached. The whole family was infected with
the mania for Private Theatricals; the house, usually so
clean and tidy, was, to use Mr. Gattleton's expressive
description, " regularly turned out o' windows;" the
large dining-room, dismantled of its furniture and orna-
•nents, presented a strange jumble of flats, flies, wings,
MBS. JOSEPH PORTER.
381
lamps, bridges, clouds, thunder and lightning, festoons
and flowers, daggers and foil, and various other messes
in theatrical slang included under the comprehensive
name of " properties." The bedrooms were crowded
with scenery, the kitchen was occupied by carpenters.
Rehearsals took place every other night in the drawing-
room, and every sofa in the house was more or less dam-
aged by the perseverance and spirit with which Mr.
Sempronius Gattleton, and Miss Lucina, rehearsed the
smothering scene in " Othello " — it having been deter-
mined that that tragedy should form the first portion of
the evening's entertainments.
" When we're a leetle more perfect, I think it will go
admirably," said Mr. Sempronius, addressing his corps,
dramatique, at the conclusion of the hundred and fiftieth
rehearsal. In consideration of his sustaining the trifling
inconvenience of bearing all the expenses of the play,
Mr. Sempronius had been, in the most handsome manner,
unanimously elected stage-manager. " Evans," continued
Mr. Gattleton, the younger, addressing a tall, thin, pale
young gentleman, with extensive whiskers. " Evans, you
play Roderigo beautifully."
" Beautifully ! " echoed the three Miss Gattletons; for
Mr. Evans was pronounced by all his lady friends to be
" quite a dear." He looked so interesting, and had such
lovely whiskers: to say nothing of his talent for writing
verses in albums and playing the flute! Roderigo sim-
pered and bowed.
" But I think," added the manager, " you are hardly
perfect in the — fall — in the fencing-scene, where you
are — you understand ? "
"It's very difficult," said Mr. Evans, thoughtfully
882
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" I've fallen about, a good deal, in our counting-house
lately for practice, only I find it hurts one so. Being
obliged to fall backwards you see, it bruises one's head
a good de&l."
" But you must take care you don't knock a wing
down," said Mr. Gattleton, the elder, who had been ap-
pointed prompter, and who took as much interest in the
play as the youngest of the company. "The stage is
very narrow, you know."
Oh! don't be afraid," said Mr. Evans, with a very
self-satisfied air: " I shall fall with my head ' off,' and
then I can't do any harm."
" But, egad!" said the manager, rubbing his hands,
" we shall make a decided hit in ' Masaniello.' Harleigh
sings that music admirably."
Everybody echoed the sentiment. Mr. Harleigh smiled,
and looked foolish — not an unusual thing with him —
hummed " Behold how brightly breaks the morning,"
and blushed as red as the fisherman's nightcap he was
trying on.
" Let's see," resumed the manager, telling the number
on his fingers, " we shall have three dancing female peas-
ants, besides Fenella, and four fishermen. Then, there's
our man Tom ; he can have a pair of ducks of mine, and
a check shirt of Bob's, and a red nightcap, and he'll do
for another — that's five. In the choruses, of course, we
can sing at the sides; and in the market-scene, we can
walk about in cloaks and things. When the revolt takes
place, Tom must keep rushing in on one side and out on
the other, with a pickaxe, as fast as he can. The effect
will be electrical; it will look exactly as if there were
an immense number of 'em. And in the eruption scene
MRS. JOSEPH PORTER.
288
we must burn the red fire, and upset the tea-trays, and
make all sorts of noises — and it's sure to do."
" Sure ! sure ! " cried all the performers una voce —
and away hurried Mr. Sempronius Gattleton to wash the
burnt cork off his face, and superintend the " setting up "
of some of the amateur-painted, and never-sufficiently-
to-be-admired, scenery.
Mrs. Gattleton was a kind, good-tempered, vulgar soul,
exceedingly fond of her husband and children, and enter-
taining only three dislikes. In the first place, she had a
natural antipathy to anybody else's unmarried daughters;
in the second, she was in bodily fear of anything in the
shape of ridicule; lastly — almost a necessary conse-
quence of this feeling — she regarded, with feelings of
the utmost horror, one Mrs. Joseph Porter over the way.
However, the good folks of Clapham and its vicinity
stood very much in awe of scandal and sarcasm ; and
thus Mrs. Joseph Porter was courted, and flattered, and
caressed, and invited, for much the same reason that in-
duces a poor author, without a farthing in his pocket, to
behave with extraordinary civility to a two-penny post-
man.
" Never mind, ma," said Miss Emma Porter, in collo-
quy with her respected relative, and trying to look uncon-
cerned ; " if they had invited me, you know that neither
you nor pa would have allowed me to take part in such
an exhibition."
"Just what I should have thought from your high
sense of propriety," returned the mother. " I am glad
•o see, Emma, you know how to designate the proceed-
ing." Miss P., by the by, had only the week before
made " an exhibition " of herself for four days, behind a
•jounter at a fancy fair, to all and every of her Majesty's
284
SKETCHES BT BOZ.
liege subjects who were disposed to pay a shilling each
for the privilege of seeing some four dozen girls flirting
with strangers, and playing at shop.
" There! " said Mrs. Porter, looking out of window;
" there are two rounds of beef and a ham going in —
clearly for sandwiches; and Thomas, the pastry-cook,
says, there have been twelve dozen tarts ordered, be-
sides blanc-mange and jellies. Upon my word! think
of the Miss Gattletons in fancy dresses, too ! "
" Oh, it's too ridiculous !" said Miss Porter, hys-
terically.
" I'll manage to put them a little out of conceit with
the business, however," said Mrs. Porter; and out she
went on her charitable errand.
" Well, my dear Mrs. Gattleton," said Mrs. Joseph
Porter, after they had been closeted for some time, and
when, by dint of indefatigable pumping, she had man-
aged to extract all the news about the play, " well, my
dear, people may say what they please; indeed we know
they will, for some folks are so ill-natured. Ah, my dear
Miss Lucina, how d'ye do? I was just telling your
mamma that I have heard it said, that — "
" What ? "
" Mrs. Porter is alluding to the play, my dear," said
Mrs. Gattleton; " she was, I am sorry to say, just in-
forming me that — "
" Oh, now pray don't mention it," interrupted Mrs.
Porter; " it's most absurd — quite as absurd as young
What's-his-name saying he wondered how Miss Caroline
with such a foot and ankle, could have the vanity to play
Fenella."
" Highly impertinent, whoever said it," said Mrs. Gat*
tleton, bridling up.
MRS. JOSEPH PORTER.
235
" Certainly, my dear," chimed in the delighted Mrs.
Porter; " most undoubtedly! Because, as I said, if Miss
Caroline does play Fenella, it doesn't follow, as a matter
of course, that she should think she has a pretty foot;
and then — such puppies as these young men are — he
had the impudence to say, that — "
How far the amiable Mrs. Porter might have suo-
ceeded in her pleasant purpose, it is impossible to say,
had not the entranfe of Mr. Thomas Balderstone, Mrs.
Gattleton's brother, familiarly called in the family " Uncle
Tom," changed the course of conversation, and suggested
to her mind an excellent plan of operation on the even-
ing of the play.
Uncle Tom was very rich, and exceedingly fond of his
nephews and nieces: as a matter of course, therefore,
he was an object of great importance in his own family
He was one of the best-hearted men in existence ; always
in a good temper, and always talking. It was his boast
that he wore top-boots on all occasions, and had never
worn a black silk neckerchief; and it was his pride that
he remembered all the principal plays of Shakspeare
from beginning to end — and so he did. The result of
this parrot-like accomplishment was, that he was not only
perpetually quoting himself, but that he could never sit
by and hear a misquotation from the " Swan of Avon "
without setting the unfortunate delinquent right. He
was also something of a wag ; never missed an oppor-
tunity of saying what he considered a good thing, and
invariably laughed until he cried at anything that ap-
peared to him mirth-moving or ridiculous.
" Well, girls ! " said Uncle Tom, after the preparatory
ceremony of kissing and how-d'ye-do-ing had been gone
through — " how d'ye get on ? Know your parts, eh ? —
236
SKETCHES BT BOZ.
Lucina, my dear, act ii., scene 1 — place, left — cue —
Unknown fate,' — What's next, eh ? — Go on —' The
heavens —'"
" Oh, yes," said Miss Lucina, " I recollect —-
• The heavens forbid
But that our loves and comforts should increase
Even as our days do grow"
" Make a pause here and there," said the old gentle-
man, who was a great critic. ' Butjthat our loves and
comforts should increase' — emphasis on the last sylla-
ble, ' crease,' — loud ' even,' ■— one, two, three, four ;
then loud again,' as our days do grow;' emphasis on
days. That's the way, my dear ; trust to your uncle for
emphasis. Ah! Sam, my boy, how are you ? "
" Very well, thankee uncle," returned Mr. Sempro-
nius, who had just appeared, looking something like a
ring-dove, with a small circle round each eye : the result
of his constant corking. " Of course we see you on
Thursday."
" Of course, of course, my dear boy."
" What a pity it is your nephew didn't think of mak-
ing you prompter, Mr. Balderstone ! " whispered Mrs.
Joseph Porter; "you would have been invaluable."
" Well, I flatter myself, I should have been tolerably
up to the thing," responded Uncle Tom.
" I must bespeak sitting next you on the night," re-
sumed Mrs. Porter; " and then, if our dear young friends
here should be at all wrong, you will be able to enlighten
me. I shall be so interested."
" I am sure I shall be most happy to give you any
assistance in my power."
" Mind, it's a bargain."
" Certainly."
MRS. JOSEPH PORTER.
237
u I don't know how it is," said Mrs. Gattleton to her
daughters, as they were sitting round the fire in the even-
ing, looking over their parts, " but I really very much
wish Mrs. Joseph Porter wasn't coming on Thursday.
I am sure she's scheming something."
" She can't make us ridiculous, however," observed
Mr. Sempronius Gattleton, haughtily.
The long-looked-for Thursday arrived in due course,
and brought with it, as Mr. Gattleton, senior, philo-
sophically observed, " no disappointments to speak of."
True, it was yet a matter of doubt whether Cassio would
be enabled to get into the dress which had been sent for
him from the masquerade warehouse. It was equally
uncertain whether the principal female singer would be
sufficiently recovered from the influenza to make her
appearance; Mr. Harleigh, the Masaniello of the night,
was hoarse, and rather unwell, in consequence of the
great quantity of lemon and sugar-candy he had eaten to
improve his voice ; and two flutes and a violoncello had
pleaded severe colds. What of that ? the audience were
all coming. Everybody knew his part; the dresses were
covered with tinsel and spangles; the white plumes
looked beautiful; Mr. Evans had practised falling until
he was bruised from head to foot and quite perfect; Iago
was sure that in the stabbing-scene, he should make " a
decided hit." A self-taught deaf gentleman, who had
kindly offered to bring his flute, would be a most valu-
able addition to the orchestra ; Miss Jenkins's talent for
the piano was too well known to be doubted for an in-
stant; Mr. Cape had practised the violin accompaniment
with her, frequently; and Mr. Brown, who had kindly
undertaken, at a few hours' notice, to bring his violon-
oello, would, no doubt, manage extremely well.
388
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Seven o'clock came, and so did the audience; all the
rank and fashion of Clapham and its vicinity was fast
filling the theatre. There were the Smiths, the Gub-
binses, the Nixons, the Dixons, the Hicksons, people
with all sorts of names, two aldermen, a sheriff in per-
spective, Sir Thomas Glumper (who had been knighted
in the last reign for carrying up an address on some-
body's escaping from nothing) ; and last, not least, there
were Mrs. Joseph Porter and Uncle Tom, seated in the
centre of the third row from the stage; Mrs. P. amusing
Uncle Tom with all sorts of stories, and Uncle Tom
amusing every one else by laughing most immoderately.
Ting, ting, ting! went the prompter's bell at eight
o'clock precisely, and dash went the orchestra into the
overture to " The Men of Prometheus." The pianoforte
player hammered away with laudable perseverance; and
the violoncello, which struck in at intervals, " sounded
very well, considering." The unfortunate individual,
however, who had undertaken to play the flute accom-
paniment "at sight," found, from fatal experience, the
perfect truth of the old adage, " out of sight, out of
mind ; " for being very near-sighted, and being placed at
a considerable distance from his music-book, all he had
an opportunity of doing was to play a bar now and then
in the wrong place, and put the other performers out.
It is, however, but justice to Mr. Brown to say that he
did this to admiration. The overture, in fact, was not
unlike a race between the different instruments; the
piano came in first by several bars, and the violoncello
next, quite distancing the poor flute; for the deaf gentle-
man too-tood away, quite unconscious that he was at all
wrong, until apprised by the applause of the audience,
that the overture was concluded. A considerable bustle
MRS. JOSEPH PORTER.
339
and shuffling of feet was then heard upon the stage,
accompanied by whispers of " Here's a pretty go! —
what's to be done ?" &c. The audience applauded
again, by way of raising the spirits of the performers;
and then Mr. Sempronius desired the prompter, in a
very audible voice, to " clear the stage, and ring up."
Ting, ting, ting ! went the bell again. Everybody sat
down; the curtain shook; rose sufficiently high to dis-
play several pair of yellow boots paddling about; and
there remained.
Ting, ting, ting! went the bell again. The curtain
was violently convulsed, but rose no higher; the audi-
ence tittered ; Mrs. Porter looked at Uncle Tom ; Uncle
Tom looked at everybody, rubbing his hands, and laugh-
ing with perfect rapture. After as much ringing with
the little bell as a muffin-boy would make in going down
a tolerably long street, and a vast deal of whispering,
hammering, and calling for nails and cord, the curtain at
length rose, and discovered Mr. Sempronius Gattleton,
solus, and decked for Othello. After three distinct rounds
of applause, during which Mr. Sempronius applied his
right hand to his left breast, and bowed in the most
approved manner, the manager advanced, and said:
" Ladies and Gentlemen — I assure you it is with sin-
cere regret, that I regret to be compelled to inform you,
that logo who was to have played Mr. Wilson — I beg
your pardon, Ladies and Gentlemen, but I am naturally
somewhat agitated (applause) —I mean, Mr. Wilson,
who was to have played lago, is — that is, has been —
or, in other words, Ladies and Gentlemen, the fact is,
that I have just received a note, in which I am informed
that lago is unavoidably detained at the Post-office this
evening. Under these circumstances, I trust — a — a —
240 SKETCHES BY BOZ.
amateur performance — a — another gentleman under-
taken to read the part — requests indulgence for a short
time — courtesy and kindness of a British audience."
Overwhelming applause. Exit Mr. Sempronius Gattle-
ton, and curtain fails.
The audience were, of course, exceedingly good-
humored; the whole business was a joke; and accord-
ingly they waited for an hour with the utmost patience,
being enlivened by an interlude of rout-cakes and lemon-
ade. It appeared by Mr. Sempronius's subsequent ex-
planation, that the delay would not have been so great,
had it not so happened that when the substitute lago had
finished dressing, and just as the play was on the point
of commencing, the original lago unexpectedly arrived.
The former was therefore compelled to undress, and the
latter to dress for his part; which as he found some
difficulty in getting into his clothes, occupied no incon-
siderable time. At last, the tragedy began in real ear-
nest. It went off well enough, until the third scene of
the first act, in which Othello addresses the Senate: the
only remarkable circumstance being, that as lago could
not get on any of the stage-boots, in consequence of his
feet being violently swelled with the heat and excite-
ment, he was under the necessity of playing the part in
a pair of Wellingtons, which contrasted rather oddly
with his richly embroidered pantaloons. When Othello
started with his address to the Senate (whose dignity
was represented by the Duke, a carpenter, two men
engaged on the recommendation of the gardener, and a
boy), Mrs. Porter found the opportunity she so anxiously
Bought.
Mr. Sempronius proceeded:
MRS. JOSEPH PORTER.
241
"1 Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approv'd good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; — rude am I in my speech —'"
" Is that right ?" whispered Mrs. Porter to Uncle
Tom.
« No."
" Tell him so, then."
" I will. Sem!" called out Uncle Tom, " that's wrong,
my boy."
" What's wrong, Uncle ? " demanded Othello, quite for-
getting the dignity of his situation.
" You've left out something. ' True I have mar-
ried —'"
" Oh, ah!" said Mr. Sempronius, endeavoring to hide
his confusion as much and as ineffectually as the au-
dience attempted to conceal their half-suppressed titter-
ing, by coughing with extraordinary violence —
"' true I have married her; —
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent; no more.'
(Aside) Why don't you prompt, father ? "
" Because I've mislaid my spectacles," said poor Mr.
Gattleton, almost dead with the heat and bustle.
" There, now it's ' rude am I,' " said Uncle Tom.
" Yes, I know it is," returned the unfortunate man-
ager, proceeding with his part.
It would be useless and tiresome to quote the numbet
of instances in which Uncle Tom, now completely in his
element, and instigated by the mischievous Mrs. Porter,
corrected the mistakes of the performers ; suffice it to
say, that having mounted his hobby, nothing could in-
iuce him to dismount; so, during the whole remainder
VOL. II. 16
242
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
of the play, he performed a kind of running accompani-
ment, by muttering everybody's part as it was being
delivered, in an undertone. The audience were highly
amused, Mrs. Porter delighted, the performers embar-
i-assed; Uncle Tom never was better pleased* in all his
life; and Uncle Tom's nephews and nieces had never,
although the declared heirs to his large property, so
heartily wished him gathered to his fathers as on that
memorable occasion.
Several other minor causes, too, united to damp the
ardor of the dramatis personce. None of the performers
could walk in their tights, or move their arms in their
jackets; the pantaloons were too small, the boots too
large, and the swords of all shapes and sizes. Mr.
Evans, naturally too tall for the scenery, wore a black
velvet hat with immense white plumes, the glory of
which was lost in " the flies ;" and the only other incon-
venience of which was, that when it was off his head he
could not put it on, and when it was on he could not
take it off". Notwithstanding all his practice, too, he fell
with his head and shoulders as neatly through one of the
side scenes, as a harlequin would jump through a panel
in a Christmas pantomime. The pianoforte player, over-
powered by the extreme heat of the room, fainted away
at the commencement of the entertainments, leaving the
music of " Masaniello " to the flute and violoncello. The
orchestra complained that Mr. Harleigh put them out,
and Mr. Harleigh declared that the orchestra prevented
his singing a note. The fishermen, who were hired for
the occasion, revolted to the very life, positively refusing
to play without an increased allowance of spirits; and,
'heir demand being complied with, getting drunk in the
eruption scene as naturally as possible. The red fire.
MRS. JOSEPH PORTER.
243
which was burnt at the conclusion of the second act, not
only nearly suffocated the audience, but nearly set the
house on fire into the bargain ; and, as it was, the re-
mainder of the piece was acted in a thick fog.
In short, the whole affair was, as Mrs. Joseph Porter
triumphantly told everybody, " a complete failure." The
audience went home at four o'clock in the morning, ex-
hausted with laughter, suffering from severe headaches,
and smelling terribly of brimstone and gunpowder. The
Messrs. Gattleton, senior and junior, retired to rest, with
the vague idea of emigrating to Swan River early in the
ensuing week.
Rose Villa has once again resumed its wonted appear-
ance ; the dining-room furniture has been replaced ; the
tables are as nicely polished as formerly ; the horsehair
chairs are ranged against the wall, as regularly as ever ;
Venetian blinds have been fitted to every window in the
house to intercept the prying gaze of Mrs. Joseph Porter.
The subject of theatricals is never mentioned in the Gat-
tleton family, unless, indeed, by Uncle Tom, who cannot
refrain from sometimes expressing his surprise and re-
gret at finding that his nephews and nieces appear to
have lost the relish they once {ossessed for the beauties
of Shakspeare, and quotations from the works of that
immortal bard.
244
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
CHAPTER X.
a passage in the life of mr. watkins tottle.
CHAPTER THE FIRST.
Matrimony is proverbially a serious undertaking
Like an overweening predilection for brandy-and-water,
it is a misfortune into which a man easily falls, and from
which he finds it remarkably difficult to extricate himself.
It is of no use telling a man who is timorous on these
points, that it is but one plunge, and all is over. They
say the same thing at the Old Bailey, and the unfortu-
nate victims derive as much comfort from the assurance
in the one case as in the other.
Mr. Watkins Tottle was a rather uncommon compound
of strong uxorious inclinations, and an unparalleled
degree of anti-connubial timidity. He was about fifty
years of age; stood four feet six inches and three-
quarters in his socks — for he never stood in stocking at
all — plump, clean, and rosy. He looked something like
a vignette to one of Richardson's novels, and had a clean-
cravatish formality of manner, and kitcheu-pokerness of
carriage, which Sir Charles Grandison himself might
have envied. He lived on an annuity, which was well
adapted to the individual who received it, in one respect
— it was rather small. He received it in periodical pay-
ments on every alternate Monday ; but he ran himself out,
about a day after the expiration of the first week, as
regularly as an eight-day clock; and then, to make the
ME. WATKINS TOTTLE.
245
oomparison complete, his landlady wound him up, and he
went on with a regular tick.
Mr. Watkins Tottle had long lived in a state of single
blessedness, as bachelors say, or single cursedness, as
spinsters think ; but the idea of matrimony had never
ceased to haunt him. Wrapt in profound reveries on
this never-failing theme, fancy transformed his small
parlor in Cecil Street, Strand, into a neat house in the
suburbs; the half - hundredweight of coals under the
kitchen-stairs suddenly sprang up into three tons of
the best Walls End; his small French bedstead was
converted into a regular matrimonial four-poster ; and in
the empty chair on the opposite side of the fireplace,
imagination seated a beautiful young lady, with a very
little independence or will of her own, and a very large
independence under a will of her father's.
"Who's there?" inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle, as a
gentle tap at his room-door disturbed these meditations
one evening.
" Tottle, my dear fellow, how do you do ?" said a
short elderly gentleman with a gruffish voice, bursting
into the room, and replying to the question by asking
another.
" Told you I should drop in some evening," said the
short gentleman, as he delivered his hat into Tottle's
hand, after a little struggling and dodging.
" Delighted to see you, I'm sure," said Mr. Watkins
Tottle, wishing internally that his visitor had " dropped
in" to the Thames at the bottom of the street, instead
of dropping into his parlor. The fortnight was nearly
jp, and Watkins was hard up.
« How is Mrs. Gabriel Parsons ? " inquired Tottle.
" Quite well, thank you," replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons,
246
SKETCHES HY KOZ.
for that was the name the short gentleman revelled in-
Here there was a pause ; the short gentleman looked at
the left hob of the fireplace ; Mr. Watkins Tottle stared
vacancy out of countenance.
" Quite well," repeated the short gentleman, when five
minutes had expired. " I may say remarkably well."
And he rubbed the palms of his hands as hard as if he
were going to strike a light by friction.
" What will you take ? " inquired Tottle, with the des-
perate suddenness of a man who knew that unless the
visitor took his leave, he stood very little chance of tak-
ing anything else.
" Oh, I don't know. — Have you any whiskey ? "
" Why," replied Tottle, very slowly, for all this was
gaining time, " I had some capital, and remarkably
strong whiskey last week; but it's all gone — and there-
fore its strength — "
" Is much beyond proof; or, in other words, impossible
to be proved," said the short gentleman ; and he laughed
very heartily, and seemed quite glad the whiskey had
been drunk. Mr. Tottle smiled — but it was the smile
of despair. When Mr. Gabriel Parsons had done laugh-
ing, he delicately insinuated that, in the absence of wbis-
key, he would not be averse to brandy. And Sir.
Watkins Tottle, lighting a flat candle very ostenta-
tiously ; and displaying an immense key, which belonged
to the street-door, but which, for the sake of appearances,
occasionally did duty in an imaginary wine-cellar; left
the room to entreat his landlady to charge their glasses,
and charge them in the bill. The application was sue-
cessful; the spirits were speedily called — not from the
vasty deep, but the adjacent wine-vaults. The two
short gentlemen mixed their grog; and then sat cosily
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
247
down before the fire — a pair of shorts, airing them-
selves.
" Tottle," said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, " you know my
way — off-hand, open, say what I mean, mean what I
say, hate reserve, and can't bear affectation. One, is a
bad domino which only hides what good people have
about 'em, without making the bad look better; and the
other is much about the same thing as pinking a white
cotton stocking to make it look like a silk one. Now
listen to what I'm going to say."
Here, the little gentleman paused, and took a long
pull at his brandy-and-water. Mr. Watkins Tottle took
a sip of his, stirred the fire, and assumed an air of pro-
found attention.
" It's of no use humming and ha'ing about the mat-
ter," resumed the short gentleman, — " you want to get
married."
"Why," replied Mr. Watkins Tottle, evasively; for
he trembled violently, and felt a sudden tingling through-
out his whole frame ; " why — I should certainly — at
least, I think I should like — "
"Won't do," said the short gentleman. —"Plain and
free — or there's an end of the matter. Do you want
money ? "
•"You know I do."
"You admire the sex?"
«I do."
" And you'd like to be married ? "
" Certainly."
" Then you shall be. There's an end of that." Thus
Baying, Mr. Gabriel Parsons took a pinch of snuff, and
mixed another glass.
" Let me entreat you to be more explanatory," said
248
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Tottle. " Really, as the party principally interested, I
cannot consent to be disposed of, in this way."
" I'll tell you, replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons, warming
with the subject, and the brandy-and-water. — "I know
a lady — she's stopping with my wife now — who's just
the thing for you. Well-educated; talks French ; plays
the piano; knows a good deal about flowers and shells,
and all that sort of thing ; and has five hundred a year,
with an uncontrollable power of disposing of it, by her
last will and testament."
"I'll pay my addresses to her," said Mr. Watkins
Tottle. " She isn't very young — is she ? "
" Not very ; just the thing for you. — I've said that
already."
" What colored hair has the lady ?" inquired Mr.
Watkins Tottle.
" Egad, I hardly recollect," replied Gabriel with cool
ness. " Perhaps I ought to have observed, at first, she
wears a front."
" A what!" ejaculated Tottle.
" One of those thing, with curls, along here," said
Parsons, drawing a straight line across his forehead, just
over his eyes, in illustration of his meaning. " I know
the front's black: I can't speak quite positively about
her own hair ; because, unless one walks behind her, and
catches a glimpse of it under her bonnet, one seldom sees
it; but I should say that it was rather lighter than the
front — a shade of a grayish tinge, perhaps."
Mr. Watkins Tottle looked as if he had certain mis-
givings of mind. Mr. Gabriel Parsons perceived it,
and thought it would be safe to begin the next attack
without delay.
" Now, were you ever in love, Tottle ? " he inquired.
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
249
Mr. Watkins Tottle blushed up to the eyes, and down
to the chin, and exhibited a most extensive combination
of colors as he confessed the soft impeachment.
" I suppose you popped the question, more than
once, when you were a young — I beg your pardon —
a younger — man," said Parsons.
" Never in my life ! " replied his friend, apparently in-
dignant at being suspected of such an act. " Never ! The
fact is, that I entertain, as you know, peculiar opinions
on these subjects. I am not afraid of ladies, young or
old — far from it; but, I think, that in compliance with
the custom of the present day, they allow too much free-
dom of speech and manner to marriageable men. Now,
the fact is, that anything like this easy freedom I never
could acquire; and as I am always afraid of going too
far, I am generally, I dare say, considered formal and
cold."
"I shouldn't wonder if you were," replied Parsons,
gravely; " I shouldn't wonder. However you'll be all
right in this case; for the strictness and delicacy of this
lady's ideas greatly exceed your own. Lord bless you,
why when she came to our house, there was an old por-
trait of some man or other, with two large black staring
eyes, hanging up in her bedroom ; she positively refused
to go to bed there, till it was taken down, considering it
decidedly wrong."
"I think so, too," said Mr. Watkins Tottle; " cer-
tainly."
" And then, the other night — I never laughed so
much in my life," resumed Mr. Gabriel Parsons ; " I
had driven home in an easterly wind, and caught a devil
of a face-ache. Well ; as Fanny —that's Mrs. Parsons,
you know — and this friend of hers, and I, and Frank
250
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Robs, were playing a rubber, I said, jokingly, that when
I went to bed I should wrap my head in Fanny's flannel
petticoat. She instantly threw up her cards, and left the
room."
" Quite right! " said Mr. Watkins Tottle, " she could
not possibly have behaved in a more dignified manner.
What did you do?"
" Do ? — Frank took dummy ; and I won sixpence ? "
" But, didn't you apologize for hurting her feelings ? "
" Devil a bit. Next morning at breakfast, we talked
it over. She contended that any reference to a flannel
petticoat was improper ; — men ought not to be supposed
to know that such things were. I pleaded my coverture;
being a married man."
" And what did the lady say to that ?" inquired
Tottle, deeply interested.
" Changed her ground, and said that Frank being a
single man, its impropriety was obvious."
" Noble-minded creature ! " exclaimed the enraptured
Tottle.
" Oh ! both Fanny and I said, at once, that she was
regularly cut out for you."
A gleam of placid satisfaction shone on the circular
face of Mr. Watkins Tottle, as he heard the prophecy.
" There's one thing I can't understand," said Mr.
Gabriel Parsons, as he rose to depart; " I cannot, for
the life and soul of me imagine, how the deuce you'll
ever contrive to come together. The lady would cer-
tainly go into convulsions if the subject were mentioned."
Mr. Gabriel Parsons sat down again, and laughed until
he was weak. Tottle owed him money, so he had a per-
feet right to laugh at Tottle's expense.
Mr. Watkins Tottle feared, in his own mind, that this
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
251
was another characteristic which he had in common with
this modern Lucretia. He, however, accepted the invi-
tation to dine with the Parsonses on the next day but
one, with great firmness; and looked forward to the
introduction, when again left alone, with tolerable com-
posure.
The sun that rose on the next day but one, had never
beheld a sprucer personage on the outside of the Nor-
wood stage, than Mr. Watkins Tottle; and when the
coach drew up before a card-board looking house with
disguised chimneys, and a lawn like a large sheet of
green letter-paper, he certainly had never lighted to his
place of destination a gentleman who felt more uncom-
fortable.
The coach stopped, and Mr. Watkins Tottle jumped —
we beg his pardon — alighted, with great dignity. " All
right!" said he, and away went the coach up the hill
with that beautiful equanimity of pace for which " short "
stages are generally remarkable.
Mr. Watkins Tottle gave a faltering jerk to the han-
die of the garden-gate bell. He essayed a more ener-
getic tug, and his previous nervousness was not at all
diminished by hearing the bell ringing like a fire alarum.
"Is Mr. Parsons at home?" inquired Tottle of the
man who opened the gate. He could hardly hear him-
self speak, for the bell had not yet done tolling.
" Here I am," shouted a voice on the lawn, — and
there was Mr. Gabriel Parsons in a flannel jacket, run-
ning backwards and forwards, from a wicket to two hats
piled on each other, and from the two hats to the wicket,
in the most violent manner, while another gentleman
with his coat off was getting down the area of the house,
after a ball, When the gentleman without the coat had
SKETCHES BT BOZ.
found it — which he did in less than ten minutes — he
ran back to the hats, and Gabriel Pax-sons pulled up.
Then, the gentleman without the coat called out " play,"
very loudly, and bowled. Then, Mr. Gabriel Parsons
knocked the ball several yards, and took another run.
Thfen, the other gentleman aimed at the wicket, and
didn't hit it; and Mr. Gabriel Parsons, having finished
running on his own account, laid down the bat and ran
after the ball, which went into a neighboring field. They
called this cricket.
" Tottle, will you 'go in ?'" inquired Mr. Gabriel
Parsons, as he approached him, wiping the perspiration
off his face.
Mr. Watkins Tottle declined the offer, the bare idea
of accepting which made him even warmer than his
friend.
" Then we'll go into the house, as it's past four, and I
shall have to wash my hands before dinner," said Mr.
Gabriel Parsons. " Here, I hate ceremony, you know !
Timson, that's Tottle — Tottle, that's Timson ; bred for
the church, which I fear will never be bread for him;"
and he chuckled at the old joke. Mr. Timson bowed
carelessly. Mr. Watkins Tottle bowed stiffly. Mr.
Gabriel Parsons led the way to the house. He was a
rich sugar-baker, who mistook rudeness for honesty,
and abrupt bluntness for an open and candid man-
ner; many besides Gabriel mistake bluntness for sin-
terity.
Mrs. Gabriel Parsons received the visitors most gra-
ciously on the steps, and preceded them to the drawing-
room. On the sofa was seated a lady of very prim
appearance, and remarkably inanimate. She was one
of those persons at whose age it is impossible to make
MK. WATKINS TOTTLE. 988
any reasonable guess; her features might have been
remarkably pretty when she was younger, and they
might always have presented the same appearance.
Her complexion — with a slight trace of powder here
and there — was as clear as that of a well-made wax
doll, and her face as expressive. She was handsomely
dressed, and was winding up a gold watch.
" Miss Lillerton, my dear, this is our friend Mr. Wat-
kins Tottle; a very old acquaintance, I assure you,"
said Mrs. Parsons, presenting the Strephon of Cecil
Street, Strand. The lady rose, and made a deep courte-
sy; Mr. Watkins Tottle made a bow.
" Splendid, majestic creature! " thought Tottle.
Mr. Timson advanced, and Mr. Watkins Tottle began
to hate him. Men generally discover a rival, instinc-
tively, and Mr. Watkins Tottle felt that his hate was
deserved.
" May I beg," said the reverend gentleman, — " May
I beg to call upon you, Miss Lillerton, for some trifling
donation to my soup, coals, and blanket-distribution
society ? "
" Put my name down for two sovereigns, if you please,"
responded Miss Lillerton.
" You are truly charitable, madam," said the Rever-
end Mr. Timson, " and we know that charity will cover
a multitude of sins. Let me beg you to understand that
I do not say this from the supposition that you have
many sins which require palliation ; believe me when I
say that I never yet met any one who had fewer to
atone for than Miss Lillerton."
Something like a bad imitation of animation lighted
up the lady's face, as she acknowledged the compliment.
Watkins Tottle incurred the sin of wishing that the
254
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
ashes of the Reverend Charles Timson were quietly
deposited in the churchyard of his curacy, wherever it
might be.
"I'll tell you what," interrupted Parsons, who had
just appeared with clean hands, and a black coat, " it's
my private opinion, Timson, that your ' distribution ?o-
ciety ' is rather a humbug."
" You are so severe," replied Timson, with a Christian
smile ; he disliked Parsons, but liked his dinners.
" So positively unjust! " said Miss Lillerton.
" Certainly," observed Tottle. The lady looked up ;
her eyes met those of Mr. Watkins Tottle. She with-
drew them in a sweet confusion, and Watkins Tottle did
the same — the confusion was mutual.
" Why," urged Mr. Parsons, pursuing his objections,
" what on earth is the use of giving a man coals who
has nothing to cook, or giving him blankets when he
hasn't a bed, or giving him soup when he requires sub-
stantial food ? —' like sending them ruffles when want-
ing a shirt.' Why not give 'em a trifle of money, as I
do, when I think they deserve it, and let them purchase
what they think best ? Why ? — because your subscrib-
ers wouldn't see their names flourishing in print on the
church-door — that's the reason."
" Really, Mr. Parsons, I hope you don't mean to
insinuate that I wish to see my name in print, on the
church-door," interrupted Miss Lillerton.
"I hope not," said Mr. Watkins Tottle, putting in
another word, and getting another glance.
" Certainly not," replied Parsons. " I dare say you
wouldn't mind seeing it in writing, though, in the church
register — eh ? "
" Register! What register ? " inquired the lady,
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
255
" Why, the register of marriages, to be sure," replied
Parsons, chuckling at the sally, and glancing at Tottle.
Mr. Watkins Tottle thought he should have fainted for
shame, and it is quite impossible to imagine what effect
the joke would have had upon the lady, if dinner had
not been, at that moment, announced. Mr. Watkins
Tottle, with an unprecedented effort of gallantry, offered
the tip of his little finger; Miss Lillerton accepted it
gracefully, with maiden modesty; and they proceeded
in due state to the dinner-table, where they were soon
deposited side by side. The room was very snug, the
dinner very good, and the little party in spirits. The
conversation became pretty general, and when Mr. Wat-
kins Tottle had extracted one or two cold observations
from his neighbor, and had taken wine with her, he
began to acquire confidence rapidly. The cloth was
removed; Mrs. Gabriel Parsons drank four glasses of
port on the plea of being a nurse just then ; and Miss
Lillerton took about the same number of sips, on the
plea of not wanting any at all. At length the ladies
retired, to the great gratification of Mr. Gabriel Parsons,
who had been coughing and frowning at his wife for half
an hour previously—signals which Mrs. Parsons never
happened to observe, until she had been pressed to take
her ordinary quantum, which, to avoid giving trouble,
she generally did at once.
" What do you think of her ?" inquired Mr. Gabriel
Parsons of Mr. Watkins Tottle, in an undertone.
" I dote on her with enthusiasm already! " replied
Mr. Watkins Tottle.
" Gentlemen, pray let us drink ' the ladies,' " said the
Reverend Mr. Timson.
" The ladies!" said Mr. Watkins Tottle, emptying his
256
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
glass. In the fulness of his confidence, he felt as if he
could make love to a dozen ladies, off-hand.
" Ah !" said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, " I remember when
I was a young man — fill your glass, Timson."
" I have this moment emptied it."
" Then fill again."
" I will," said Timson, suiting the action to the word.
" I remember," resumed Mr. Gabriel Parsons, " when
I was a younger man, with what a strange compound of
feelings I used to drink that toast, and how I used to
think every woman was an angel.!'
"Was that before you were married ? " mildly inquired
Mr. Watkins Tottle.
" Oh! certainly," replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons, " I
have never thought so since ; and a precious milksop I
must have been, ever to have thought so at all. But,
you know, I married Fanny under the oddest and most
ridiculous circumstances possible."
" What were they, if one may inquire ? " asked Tim-
son, who had heard the story, on an average, twice a
week for the last six months. Mr. Watkins Tottle lis-
tened attentively, in the hope of picking up some sug-
gestion that might be useful to him in his new under-
taking.
" I spent my wedding-night in a back-kitchen chim-
ney," said Parsons, by way of a beginning.
" In a back-kitchen chimney!" ejaculated Watkins
Tottle. "How dreadful!"
"Yes, it wasn't very plea-ant," replied the small host.
The fact is, Fanny's father and mother liked me well
enough as an individual, but had a decided objection to
my becoming a husband. You see, I hadn't any money
in those days, and they had; and so they wanted Fanny
MB. WATKINS TOTTLE.
257
to pick up somebody else. However, we managed to
discover the state of each other's affections somehow. I
used to meet her, at some mutual friends' parties; at first
we danced together, and talked, and flirted, and all that
sort of thing ; then, I used to like nothing so well as sit-
ting by her side — we didn't talk so much then, but I
remember I used to have a great notion of looking .at
her out of the extreme corner of my left eye — and then
I got very miserable and sentimental, and began to write
verses, and use Macassar oil. At last I couldn't bear it
any longer, and after I had walked up and down the
sunny side of Oxford Street in tight boots for a week —
and a devilish hot summer it was too — in the hope of
meeting her, I sat down and wrote a letter, and begged
her to manage to see me clandestinely, for I wanted to
hear her decision from her own mouth. I said I had dis-
covered, to my perfect satisfaction, that I couldn't live
without her, and that if she didn't have me, I had made
up my mind to take prussic acid, or take to drinking, or
emigrate, so as to take myself off in some way or other.
Well, I borrowed a pound, and bribed the housemaid to
give her the note, which she did."
"And what was the reply?" inquired Timson, who
had found, before, that to encourage the repetition of old
stories is to get a general invitation.
" Oh, the usual one ! Fanny expressed herself very
miserable ; hinted at the possibility of an early grave ;
said that nothing should induce her to swerve from the
duty she owed her parents ; implored me to forget her,
and find out somebody more deserving, and all that sort
of thing. She said she could, on no account, think of
meeting me unknown to her pa and ma ; and entreated
me, as she should be in a particular part of Kensington
VOL. II. 17
258
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Gardens at eleven o'clock next morning, not to attempt
to meet her there."
" You didn't go, of course ? " said Watkins Tottle.
" Didn't I? — Of course I did. There she was, with
the identical housemaid in perspective, in order that there
might be no interruption. We walked about, for a
couple of hours ; made ourselves delightfully miserable;
and were regularly engaged. Then, we began to ' cor-
respond' — that is to say, we used to exchange about
four letters a day; what we used to say in 'em I can't
imagine. And I used to have an interview, in the
kitchen, or the cellar, or some such place, every evening.
Well, things went on in this way for some time ; and we
got fonder of each other every day. At last, as our love
was raised to such a pitch, and as my salary had been
raised too, shortly before, we determined on a secret mar-
riage. Fanny arranged to sleep at a friend's on the pre-
vious night; we were to be married early in the morn-
ing; and then we were to return to her home and be
pathetic. She was to fall at the old gentleman's feet,
and bathe his boots with her tears ; and I was to hug
the old lady and call her ' mother,' and use my pocket-
handkerchief as much as possible. Married we were,
the next morning ; two girls — friends of Fanny's —
acting as bridesmaids; and a man, who was hired for
five shillings and a pint of porter, officiating as father.
Now, the old lady unfortunately put off her return from
Ramsgate, where she had been paying a visit, until the
next morning: and as we placed great reliance on her,
we agreed to postpone our confession for four-and-twenty
hours. My newly made wife returned home, and I spent
my wedding-day in strolling about Hampstead Heath,
and execrating my father-in-law. Of course, I went to
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
259
comfort my dear little wife at night, as much as I could,
with the assurance that our troubles would soon be over.
I opened the garden-gate, of which I had a key, and was
shown by the servant to our old place of meeting — a
back-kitchen, with a stone floor and a dresser; upon
which, in the absence of chairs, we used to sit and make
love."
" Make love upon a kitchen-dresser ? " interrupted Mr.
Watkins Tottle, whose ideas of decorum were greatly
outraged.
" Ah! On a kitchen-dresser ! " replied Parsons.
"And let me tell you, old fellow, that, if you were
really over head-and-ears in love, and had no other place
to make love in, you'd be devilish glad to avail yourself
of such an opportunity. However, let me see; — where
was I ? "
" On the dresser," suggested Timson.
" Oh — ah! Well, here I found poor Fanny, quite
disconsolate and uncomfortable. The old boy had been
very cross all day, which made her feel still more lonely;
and she was quite out of spirits. So, I put a good face
on the matter, and laughed it off, and said we should
enjoy the pleasures of a matrimonial life more, by con-
trast; and, at length, poor Fanny brightened up a little.
I stopped there, till about eleven o'clock, and, just as I
was taking my leave for the fourteenth time, the girl
came running down the stairs, without her shoes, in a
great fright, to tell us that the old villain — Heaven for-
give me for calling him so, for he is dead and gone now!
— prompted 1 suppose by the prince of darkness, was
coming down to draw his own beer for supper — a thing
ire had not done before, for six months, to my certain
knowledge ; for the cask stood in that very back-kitchen.
260
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
If he discovered me there, explanation would have been
out of the question ; for he "was so outrageously violent,
when at all excited, that he never would have listened to
me. There was only one thing to be done. The chiin-
ney was a very wide one ; it had been originally built
for an oven ; went up perpendicularly for a few feet, and
then shot backward and formed a sort of small cavern.
My hopes and fortune — the means of our joint existence
almost — were at stake. I scrambled in, like a squirrel;
coiled myself up in this recess; and, as Fanny and the
girl replaced the deal chimney board, I could see the
light of the candle which my unconscious father-in-law
earned in his hand. I heard him draw the beer; and I
never heard beer run so slowly. He was just leaving
the kitchen, and I was preparing to descend, when down
came the infernal chimney board with a tremendous
crash. He stopped, and put down the candle and the
jug of beer on the dresser ; he was a nervous old fellow,
and any unexpected noise annoyed him. He coolly ob-
served that the fireplace was never used, and sending the
frightened servant into the next kitchen for a hammer
and nails, actually nailed up the board, and locked the
door on the outside. So, there was I, on my wedding-
night, in the light kerseymere trousers, fancy waistcoat,
and blue coat, that I had been married in in the morn-
ing, in a back-kitchen chimney, the bottom of which was
nailed up, and the top of which had been formerly raised
some fifteen feet, to prevent the smoke from annoying
the neighbors. And there,'' added Mr. Gabriel Parsons,
as he passed the bottle, " there I remained till half-past
seven the next morning, when the. housemaid's sweet-
heart, who was a carpenter, unslielled me. The old dog
had nailed me up so securely, that, to this very hour, I
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
261
firmly believe that no one but a carpenter could ever
have got me out."
" And what did Mrs. Parsons's father say, when he
found you were married ?" inquired Watkins Tottle,
who, although he never saw a joke, was not satisfied
until he heard a story to the very end.
" Why, the affair of the chimney so tickled his fancy,
that he pardoned us off-hand, and allowed us something
to live on till he went the way of all flesh. I spent the
next night in his second-floor front, much more comfort-
ably than I had spent the preceding one ; for, as you will
probably guess — "
" Please sir, missis has made tea," said a middle-aged
female servant, bobbing into the room.
" That's the very housemaid that figures in my story,"
said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. " She went into Fanny's
service when we were first married, and has been with us
ever since; but I don't think she has felt one atom of
respect for me since the morning she saw me released,
when she went into violent hysterics, to which she has
been subject ever since. Now, shall we join the
ladies ? "
" If you please," said Mr. Watkins Tottle.
" By all means," added the obsequious Mr. Timson;
and the trio made for the drawing-room accordingly.
Tea being concluded, and the toast and cups having
been duly handed, and occasionally upset, by Mr. Wat-
kins Tottle, a rubber was proposed. They cut for part-
ners — Mr. and Mrs. Parsons ; and Mr. Watkins Tottle
and Miss Lillerton. Mr. Timson having conscientious
scruples on the subject of card-playing, drank brandy-
mid-water, and kept up a running spar with Mr. Watkins
tottle. The evening went off well; Mr. Watkins Tottle
262
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
was in high spirits, having some reason to be gratified
with his reception by Miss Lillerton; and before he left,
a small party was made up to visit the Beulah Spa on
the following Saturday.
" It's all right, I think," said Mr. Gabriel Parsons
to Mr. Watkins Tottle, as he opened the garden gate for
him.
" I hope so," he replied, squeezing his friend's hand.
" You'll be down by the first coach on Saturday," said
Mr. Gabriel Parsons.
" Certainly," replied Mr. Watkins Tottle. " Undoubt-
edly."
But fortune had decreed that Mr. Watkins Tottle
should not be down by the first coach on Saturday.
His adventures on that day, however, and the success
of his wooing, are subjects for another chapter.
CHAPTER THE SECOND.
" The first coach has not come in yet, has it, Tom ? "
inquired Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as lie very complacently
paced up and down the fourteen feet of gravel which
bordered the "lawn," on the Saturday morning which
had been fixed upon for the Beulah Spa jaunt.
" No, sir : I haven't seen it," replied a gardener in a
blue apron, who let himself out to do the ornamental for
half a crown a day and his " keep."
" Time Tottle was down," said Mr. Gabriel Parsons,
ruminating — " Oh, here he is, no doubt," added Gabriel,
as a cab drove rapidly up the hill; and he buttoned his
ME. WATKINS TOTTLE.
268
dressing-gown, and opened the gate to receive the ex-
pected visitor. The cab stopped, and out jumped a man
in a coarse Petersham great-coat, whity-brown necker-
chief, faded black suit, gamboge-colored top-boots, and
one of those large - crowned hats formerly seldom met
with, but now very generally patronized by gentlemen
and costermongers.
" Mr. Parsons ? " said the man, looking at the super-
scription of a note he held in his hand, and addressing
Gabriel with an inquiring air.
" My name is Parsons," responded the sugar-baker.
" I've brought this here note," replied the individual
in the painted tops, in a hoarse whisper; " I've brought
this here note from a gen'lm'n as come to our house this
mornin'."
" I expected the gentleman at my house," said Par-
sons, as he broke the seal, which bore the impres-
sion of her majesty's profile as it is seen on a six-
pence.
" I've no doubt the gen'lm'n would ha' been here,"
replied the stranger, " if he hadn't happened to call at
our house first; but we never trusts no gen'lm'n furder
nor we can see him — no mistake about that there " —
added the unknown, with a facetious grin; " beg yer
pardon, sir, no offence meant, only — once in, and I
wish you may — catch the idea, sir ? "
Mr. Gabriel Parsons was not remarkable for catching
anything suddenly, but a cold. He therefore only be-
stowed a glance of profound astonishment on his myste-
rious companion, and proceeded to unfold the note ol
which he had been the bearer. Once opened, and the
idea was caught with very little difficulty. Mr. Watkins
Tottle had been suddenly arrested for 331. 10s. 4d., and
264
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
dated his communication from a lock - up house in the
vicinity of Chancery Lane.
" Unfortunate affair, this! " said Parsons, refolding the
note.
" Oh ! nothin' ven you're used to it," coolly observed
the man in the Petersham.
" Tom!" exclaimed Parsons, after a few minutes'
consideration, "just put the horse in, will you? — Tell
the gentleman that I shall be there almost as soon as
you are," he continued, addressing the sheriff - officer's
Mercury.
" Werry well," replied that important functionary;
adding, in a confidential manner, " I'd adwise the gen-
'lm'n's friends to settle. You see it's a mere trifle ; and,
unless the gen'lm'n means to go up afore the court, it's
hardly worth while waiting for detainers, you know.
Our governor's wide awake, he is. I'll never say nothin'
agin him, nor no man; but he knows what's o'clock, he
does, uncommon." Having delivered this eloquent, and,
to Parsons, particularly intelligible harangue, the mean-
ing of which was eked out by divers nods and winks,
the gentleman in the boots reseated himself in the cab,
which went rapidly off and was soon out of sight. Mr.
Gabriel Parsons continued to pace up and down the
pathway for some minutes, apparently absorbed in deep
meditation. The result of his cogitations seemed to be
perfectly satisfactory to himself, for he ran briskly into
the house ; said that business had suddenly summoned
him to town ; that he had desired the messenger to in-
form Mr. Watkins Tottle of the fact; and that they
would return together to dinner. He then hastily
equipped himself for a drive, and mounting his gig, was
soon on his way to the establishment of Mr. Solomon
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
266
Jacobs, situate (as Mr. Watkins Tottle had informed
him) in Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane.
When a man is in a violent hurry to get on, and has
a specific object in view, the attainment of which de-
pends on the completion of his journey, the difficulties
which interpose themselves in his way appear not only
to be innumerable, but to have been called into existence
especially for the occasion. The remark is by no means
a new one, and Mr. Gabriel Parsons had practical and
painful experience of its justice in the course of his
drive. There are three classes of animated objects
which prevent your driving with any degree of comfort
or celerity through streets which are but little frequented
— they are pigs, children, and old women. On the
occasion we are describing, the pigs were luxuriating on
cabbage-stalks; and the shuttlecocks fluttered from the
little deal battledoors, and the children played in the
road; and women, with a basket in one hand and the
street-door key in the other, would cross just before the
horse's head, until Mr. Gabriel Parsons was perfectly
savage with vexation, and quite hoarse with hoi-ing and
imprecating. Then, when he got into Fleet Street,
there was " a stoppage," in which people in vehicles
have the satisfaction of remaining stationary for half
an hour, and envying the slowest pedestrians ; and where
policemen rush about, and seize hold of horses' bridles,
and back them into shop-windows, by way of clearing
the road and preventing confusion. At length Mr.
Gabriel Parsons turned into Chancery Lane, and hav-
ing inquired for, and been directed to Cursitor Street
(for it was a locality of which he was quite ignorant),
ne soon found himself opposite the house of Mr. Solo-
mon Jacobs. Confiding his horse and gig to the care
266
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
of one of tlie fourteen boys who had followed him from
the other side of Blackfriars Bridge on the chance of
his requiring their services, Mr. Gabriel Parsons crossed
the road and knocked at an inner door, the upper part
of which was of glass, grated like the windows of this
inviting mansion with iron bars — painted white to look
comfortable.
The knock was answered by a sallow-faced red-haired
sulky boy, who, after surveying Mr. Gabriel Parsons
through the glass, applied a large key to an immense
wooden excrescence, which was in reality a lock, but
which, taken in conjunction with the iron nails with
which the panels were studded, gave the door the ap-
pearance of being subject to warts.
" I want to see Mr. Watkins Tottle," said Parsons.
" It's the gentleman that come in this morning, Jem,"
screamed a voice from the top of the kitchen stairs,
which belonged to a dirty woman, who had just brought
her chin to a level with the passage-floor. " The gen-
tleman's in the coffee-room."
" Up-stairs, sir," said the boy, just opening the door
wide enough to let Parsons in without squeezing him,
and double-locking it the moment he had made his way
through the aperture — " First floor — door on the
left."
Mr. Gabriel Parsons, thus instructed, ascended the
uncarpeted and ill-lighted staircase, and after giving
several subdued taps at the before-mentioned " door on
the left," which were rendered inaudible by the hum of
voices within the room, and the hissing noise attendant
on some frying operations which were carrying on below
Btairs, turned the. handle, and entered the apartment.
Being informed that the unfortunate object of his visit
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
267
JU8t gone up-stairs to write a letter, he had leisure
to sit down and observe the scene before him.
The room — which was a small, confined den — was
partitioned off into boxes, like the common room of some
inferior eating-house. The dirty floor had evidently
been as long a stranger to the scrubbing-brush as to
carpet or floor-cloth; and the ceiling was completely
blackened by the flare of the oil-lamp by which the
room was lighted at night. The gray ashes on the
edges of the tables, and the cigar ends which were plen-
tifully scattered about the dusty grate, fully accounted
for the intolerable smell of tobacco which pervaded the
place ; and the empty glasses and half-saturated slices
of lemon on the tables, together with the porter-pots
beneath them, bore testimony to the frequent libations
in which the individuals who honored Mr. Solomon
Jacobs by a temporary residence in his house indulged.
Over the mantel-shelf was a paltry looking-glass, extend-
ing about half the width of the chimney piece; but by
way of counterpoise the ashes were confined by a rusty
fender about twice as long as the hearth.
From this cheerful room itself, the attention of Mr.
Gabriel Parsons was naturally directed to its inmates.
In one of the boxes two men were playing at cribbage
with a very dirty pack of cards, some with blue, some
with green, and some with red backs — selections from
decayed packs. The cribbage board had been long ago
formed on the table by some ingenious visitor with the
assistance of a pocket-knife and a two-pronged fork, with
which the necessary number of holes had been made in
the table at proper distances for the reception of the
wooden pegs. In another box a stout, hearty looking
man, of about forty, was eating some dinner which his
268
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
wife — an equally comfortable-looking personage — had
brought him in a basket! and in a third, a genteel-look-
ing young man was talking earnestly, and in a low tone,
to a young female, whose face was concealed by a thick
veil, but whom Mr. Gabriel Parsons immediately set
down in his own mind as the debtor's wife. A young
fellow of vulgar manners, dressed in the very extreme
of the prevailing fashion, was pacing up and down the
room, with a lighted cigar in his mouth, and his hands
in his pockets, ever and anon puffing forth volumes of
smoke, and occasionally applying, with much apparent
relish, to a pint pot, the contents of which were " chill-
ing " on the hob.
" Fourpence more, by gum!" exclaimed one of the
cribbage-players, lighting a pipe, and addressing his
adversary at the close of the game ; " one 'ud think
you'd got luck in a pepper-cruet, and shook it out when
you wanted it."
" Well, that a'n't a bad un," replied the other, who
was a horse-dealer from Islington.
" No ; I'm blessed if it is," interposed the jolly looking
fellow, who, having finished his dinner, was drinking out
of the same glass as his wife, in truly conjugal harmony,
some hot gin-and-water. The faithful partner of his
cares had brought a plentiful supply of the anti-temper-
ance fluid in a large flat stone bottle, which looked like a
half-gallon jar that had been successfully tapped for the
dropsy. " You're a rum chap, you are, Mr. Walker —
will you dip your beak into this, sir ? "
" Thankee, sir," replied Mr. Walker, leaving his box,
and advancing to the other to accept the proffered glass.
'' Here's your health, sir, and your good 'ooman's here.
Gentlemen all — yours, and better luck still. Well, Mr.
MR. \VATKINS TOTTLE.
269
Willis," continued the facetious prisoner, addressing the
young man with the cigar, "you seem rather down to-
day — floored, as one may say. What's the matter, sir ?
Never say die you know."
"Oh! I'm all right," replied the smoker. " I shall be
bailed out to-morrow."
" Shall you, though ? " inquired the other. " Damme,
I wish I could say the same. I am as regularly over
head and ears as the Royal George, and stand about as
much chance of being bailed out. Ha ! ha ! ha ! "
"Why," said the young man, stopping short, and
speaking in a very loud key, " look at me. What d'ye
think I've stopped here two days for?"
"'Cause you couldn't get out, I suppose," interrupted
Mr. Walker, winking to the company. " Not that
you're exactly obliged to stop here, only you can't
help it. No compulsion, you know, only you must
— eh ? "
" A'n't he a rum un," inquired the delighted individ-
ual, who had offered the gin-and-water, of his wife.
" Oh, he just is!" replied the lady, who was quite
overcome by these flashes of imagination.
" Why, my case," frowned the victim, throwing the
end of his cigar into the fire, and illustrating his argu-
ment by knocking the bottom of the pot on the table, at
intervals, — " my case is a very singular one. My fa-
tber's a man of large property, and I am his son."
" That's a very strange circumstance!" interrupted
the jocose Mr. Walker, en passant.
" — I am his son, and have received a liberal educa-
tion. I don't owe no man nothing — not the value of a
farthing, but I was induced, you see, to put my name to
some bills for a friend — bills to a large amount, I may
270
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
say a very large amount, for which I didn't receive no
consideration. What's the consequence ? "
" Why, I suppose the bills went out, and you came in.
The acceptances weren't taken up, and you were, eh ? "
inquired Walker.
"To be sure," replied the liberally educated young
gentleman. " To be sure ; and so here I am, locked up
for a matter of twelve hundred pound."
" Why don't you ask your old governor to stump up ? "
inquired Walker, with a somewhat sceptical air.
" Oh ! bless you, he'd never do it," replied the other,
in a tone of expostulation — " Never ! "
" Well, it is very odd to — be — sure," interposed the
owner of the flat bottle, mixing another glass, " but I've
been in difficulties, as one may say, now for thirty year.
I went to pieces when I was in a milk-walk, thirty year
ago; arterwards, when I was a fruiterer, and kept a
spring wan ; and arter that again in the coal and 'tatur
line — but all that time I never see a youngish chap
come into a place of this kind, who wasn't going out
again directly, and who hadn't been arrested on bills
which he'd given a friend and for which he'd received
nothing whatsomever — not a fraction."
" Oh! it's always the cry," said Walker. "I can't see
the use on it; that's what makes me so wild. Why, I
should have a much better opinion of an individual, if
he'd say at once in an honorable and gentlemanly man-
ner as he'd done everybody he possibly could."
" Ay, to be sure," interposed the horse-dealer, with
whose notions of bargain and sale the axiom perfectly
coincided, " so should I."
The young gentleman, who had given rise to these ob-
servations, was on the point of offering a rather angry
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
271
reply to these sneers, but the rising of the young man
before noticed, and of the female who had been sitting
by him, to leave the room, interrupted the conversation.
She had been weeping bitterly, and the noxious atmos-
phere of the room acting upon her excited feelings and
delicate frame, rendered the support of her companion
necessary as they quitted it together.
There was an air of superiority about them both, and
something in their appearance so unusual in such a place,
that a respectful silence was observed until the whirr —
r — bang of the spring door announced that they were
out of hearing. It was broken by the wife of the ex-
fruiterer.
" Poor creetur ! " said she, quenching a sigh in a rivu-
let of gin-and-water. " She's very young."
" She's a nice-looking 'ooman too," added the horse-
dealer.
" What's he in for, Ikey ?" inquired Walker, of an
individual who was spreading a cloth with numerous
blotches of mustard upon it, on one of the tables, and
whom Mr. Gabriel Parsons had no difficulty in recog-
nizing as the man who had called upon him in the morn-
ing.
" Vy," responded the factotum, " it's one of the rum-
miest rigs you ever heard on. He come in here last
Yensday, which by the by he's agoing over the water
to-night — hows'ever that's neither here nor there. You
see I've been agoing back'ards and for'ards about his
business, and ha' managed to pick up some of his story
from the servants and them; and so far as I can make it
out, it seems to be summat to this here effect — "
" Cut it short, old fellow," interrupted Walker,
who knew from former experience that he of the top-
272
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
boots was neither very concise nor intelligible in Ills
narratives.
"Let me alone," replied Ikey, "and I'll ha'vound up,
and made my lucky in five seconds. This here young
gen'lm'n's father so I'm told, mind ye — and the father
o' the young voman, have always been on very bad,
out-and-out, rig'lar knock-me-down sort o' terms; but
somehow or another, when he was a-wisitin' at some
gentlefolk's house, as he knowed at college, he came into
contract with the young lady. He seed her several times,
and then he up and said he'd keep company with her, if so
be as she vos agreeable. Yell, she vos as sweet upon
him as he vos upon her, and so I s'pose they made it all
right; for they got married 'bout six months arterwards,
unbeknown, mind ye, to the two fathers — leastways so
I'm told. When they heard on it — my eyes, there was
such a combustion ! Starvation vos the very least that
vos to be done to 'em. The young gen'lm'n's father cut
him off vith a bob, 'cos he'd cut himself off vith a wife ;
and the young lady's father he behaved even worser and
more unnat'ral, for he not only blow'd her up dreadful,
and swore he'd never see her again, but he employed a
chap as I knows — and as you knows, Mr. Yalker, a
precious sight too well — to go about and buy up the
bills and them things on which the young husband,
thinking his governor 'ud come round agin, had raised
the vind just to blow himself on vith for a time ; besides
\ ich, he made all the interest he could to set other people
agin him. Consequence vos, that he paid as long as he
could; but things he never expected to have to meet till
he'd had time to turn himself round, come fast upon him,
and he vos nabbed. He vos brought here, as I said
afore, last Yensday, and I think there's about — ah,
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
278
half a dozen detainers agin him down-stairs now. I
have been," added I key, " in the purfession these fifteen
year, and I never met with such windictiveness afore!"
" Poor creeturs! " exclaimed the coal-dealer's wife once
more: again resorting to the same excellent prescrip-
tion for nipping a sigh in the bud: " Ah! when they've
seen as much trouble as I and my old man here have,
they'll be as comfortable under it as we are."
"The young lady's a pretty creature," said Walker,
" only she's a little too delicate for my taste — there a'n't
enough of her. As to the young cove, he may be very
respectable and what not, but he's too down in the mouth
for me — he a'n't game."
" Game ! " exclaimed Ikey, who had been altering the
position of a green-handled knife and fork at least a
dozen times, in order that he might remain in the room
under the pretext of having something to do. " He's
game enough ven there's anything to be fierce about;
but who could be game as you call it, Mr. Walker, with
a pale young creetur like that, hanging about him ? —
It's enough to drive any man's heart into his boots to see
'em together — and no mistake at all about it. I never
shall forget her first comin' here ; he wrote to her on the
Thursday to come — I know he did, 'cos I took the
letter. Uncommon fidgety he was all day to be sure,
and in the evening he goes down into the office, and he
says to Jacobs, says he,' Sir, can I have the loan of a
private room for a few minutes this evening, without in-
curring any additional expense — just to see my wife
in ?' says he. Jacobs looked as much as to say —' Strike
me bountiful if you a'n't one of the modest sort!' but as
the gen'lm'n who had been in the back parlor had just
gone out, and had paid for it for that day, he says —
VOL. II. 18
274
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
werry grave —' Sir,' says he, it's agin our rules to let
private rooms to our lodgers on gratis terms, but,' says
he, 'for a gentleman, I don't mind breaking through
them for once.' So then he turns round to me, and says,
' Ikey, put two mould candles in the back-parlor, and
charge 'em to this gen'lm'n's account,' vich I did. Yell,
by and by a hackney-coach comes up to the door, and
there, sure enough, was the young lady, wrapped up in
a liopera-cloak, as it might be, and all alone. I opened
the gate that night, so I went up when the coach come,
and he vos a-waitin' at the parlor-door — and wasn't he
a-trembling, neither? The poor creetur see him, and
could hardly walk to meet him. ' Oh, Harry!' she
says, ' that it should have come to this ; and all for my
sake,' says she, putting her hand upon his shoulder. So
he puts his arm round her pretty little waist, and leading
her gently a little way into the room, so that he might be
able to shut the door, he says so kind and soft-like —
' Why, Kate,' says he — "
" Here's the gentleman you want," said Ikey, abruptly
breaking off in his story, and introducing Mr. Gabriel
Parsons to the crest-fallen Watkins Tottle, who at that
moment entered the room. Watkins advanced with a
wooden expression of passive endurance, and accepted
the hand which Mr. Gabriel Parsons held out.
" I want to speak to you," said Gabriel, with a look
strongly expressive of his dislike of the company.
" This way," replied the imprisoned one, leading the
way to the front drawing-room, where rich debtors did
the luxurious at the rate of a couple of guineas a day.
" Well, here I am," said Watkins, as he sat down on
the sofa ; and placing the palms of his hands on his
knees, anxiously glanced at his friend's countenance.
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
275
" Yes; and here you're likely to be," said Gabriel,
coolly, as he rattled the money in his unmentionable
pockets, and looked out of the window.
" What's the amount with the costs ? " inquired Par-
sons, after an awkward pause.
"37/. 3s. 1(M."
" Have you any money ? "
" Nine and sixpence halfpenny."
Mr. Gabriel Parsons walked up and down the room
for a few seconds, before he could make up his mind to
disclose the plan he had formed ; he was accustomed to
drive hard bargains, but was always most anxious to con-
ceal his avarice. At length he stopped short, and said,
" Tottle, you owe me fifty pounds."
" I do."
" And from all I see, I infer that you are likely to owe
it to me."
" I fear I am."
" Though you have every disposition to pay me if you
could?"
" Certainly."
" Then," said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, " listen; here's my
proposition. You know my way of old. Accept it —
yes or no —• I will or I won't. I'll pay the debt and
costs, and I'll lend you 10/. more (which, added to your
annuity, will enable you to carry on the war well) if
you'll give me your note of hand to pay me one hundred
and fifty pounds within six months after you are married
to Miss Lillerton."
" My dear — "
" Stop a minute — on one condition ; and that is, that
you propose to Miss Lillerton at once."
" At once! My dear Parsons, consider."
276
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
"It's for you to consider, not me. She knows yon
well from reputation, though she did not know you per-
sonally until lately. Notwithstanding all her maiden
modesty, I think she'd be devilish glad to get married
out of hand, with as little delay as possible. My
wife has sounded her on the subject, and she has con-
fessed."
" What — what ? " eagerly interrupted the enamored
Watkins.
" Why," replied Parsons, " to say exactly what she
has confessed, would be rather difficult, because they only
spoke in hints, and so forth ; but my wife, who is no bad
judge in these cases, declared to me that what she had
confessed was as good as to say that she was not insen-
sible of your merits — in fact, that no other man should
have her."
Mr. Watkins Tottle rose hastily from his seat, and
rang the bell.
" What's that for ? " inquired Parsons.
" I want to send the man for the bill stamp," replied
Mr. Watkins Tottle.
" Then you've made up your mind ? "
" I have," — and they shook hands most cordially.
The note of hand was given — the debt and costs were
paid — Ikey was satisfied for his trouble, and the two
friends soon found themselves on that side of Mr. Solo-
mon Jacobs's establishment on which most of his visitors
were very happy when they found themselves once again
— to wit, the owtside.
" Now," said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as they drove to
Norwood together—"you shall have an opportunity to
make the disclosure to-night, and mind you speak out,
Tottle."
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
277
141 will — I will! " replied Watkins, valorously.
" How I should like to see you together," ejaculated
Mr. Gabriel Parsons. — " What fun ! " and he laughed
so long and so loudly, that he disconcerted Mr. Watkins
Tottle, and frightened the horse.
" There's Fanny and your intended walking about on
the lawn," said Gabriel, as they approached the house
— " Mind your eye, Tottle."
" Never fear," replied Watkins, resolutely, as he made
his way to the spot where the ladies were walking.
" Here's Mr. Tottle, my dear," said Mrs. Parsons,
addressing Miss Lillerton. The lady turned quickly
round, and acknowledged his courteous salute with the
same sort of confusion that Watkins had noticed on their
first interview, but with something like a slight expres-
sion of disappointment or carelessness.
" Did you see how glad she was to see you ?" whis-
pered Parsons to his friend.
" Why I really thought she looked as if she would
rather have seen somebody else," replied Tottle.
" Pooh, nonsense !" whispered Parsons again — " it's
always the way with the women, young or old. They
never show how delighted they are to see those whose
presence makes their hearts beat. It's the way with the
whole sex, and no man should have lived to your time
of life without knowing it. Fanny confessed it to me,
when we were first married, over and over again — see
what it is to have a wife."
" Certainly," whispered Tottle, whose courage was
vanishing fast.
" Well, now, you'd better begin to pave the way," said
Parsons, who, having invested some money in the specu-
lation, assumed the office of director.
278
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Yes, yes, I will — presently," replied Tottle, greatly
flurried.
" Say something to her, man," urged Parsons again.
" Confound it! pay her a compliment, can't you ? "
" No! not till after dinner," replied the bashful Tottle,
anxious to postpone the evil moment.
" Well, gentlemen," said Mrs. Parsons, " you are really
very polite; you stay away the whole morning, after
promising to take us out, and when you do come home,
you stand whispering together and take no notice of
us."
"We were talking of the business, my dear, which
detained us this morning," replied Parsons, looking
significantly at Tottle.
" Dear me ! how very quickly the morning has gone,"
said Miss Lillerton, referring to the gold watch, which
was wound up on state occasions, whether it required it
or not.
" I think it has passed very slowly," mildly suggested
Tottle.
(" That's right — bravo ! ") whispered Parsons.
" Indeed!" said Miss Lillerton, with an air of majestic
surprise.
" I can only impute it to my unavoidable absence from
your society, madam," said Watkins, " and that of Mrs.
Parsons."
During this short dialogue, the ladies had been lead-
ing the way to the house.
" What the deuce did you stick Fanny into that last
compliment for ? " inquired Parsons, as they followed to-
gether ; " it quite spoilt the effect."
" Oh ! *it really would have been too broad without,"
replied Watkins Tottle, " much too broad ! "
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
279
" He's mad!" Parsons whispered his wife, as they
3ntered the drawing-room, " mad from modesty."
" Dear me !" ejaculated the lady, " I never beard of
such a thing."
" You'll find we have quite a family dinner, Mr.
Tottle," said Mrs. Parsons, when they sat down to table ;
" Miss Lillerton is one of us, and of course we make no
stranger of you."
Mr. Watkins Tottle expressed a hope that the Parsons
family never would make a stranger of him ; and wished
internally that his bashfulness would allow him to feel a
little less like a stranger himself.
" Take off the covers, Martha," said Mrs. Parsons,
directing the shifting of the scenery with great anxiety.
The order was obeyed, and a pair of boiled fowls, with
tongue and et ceteras, were displayed at the top, and a
fillet of veal at the bottom. On one side of the table
two green sauce-tureens, with ladles of the same, were
setting to each other in a green dish ; and on the other
was a curried rabbit, in a brown suit, turned up with
lemon.
" Miss Lillerton, my dear," said Mrs. Parsons, " shall
1 assist you ? "
"Thank you, no ; I think I'll trouble Mr. Tottle."
Watkins started — trembled — helped the rabbit —
and broke a tumbler. The countenance of the lady of
the house, which had been all smiles previously, under-
went an awful change.
" Extremely sorry," stammered Watkins, assisting him-
self to currie and parsley and butter, in the extremity of
his confusion.
" Not the least consequence," replied Mrs. Parsons, in
a tone which implied that it was of the greatest conse-
280
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
quence possible, — directing aside the researches of the
boy, who was groping under the table for the bits of
broken glass.
" I presume," said Miss Lillerton, " that Mr. Tottle
is aware of the interest which bachelors usually pay
in such cases; a dozen glasses for one is the lowest
penalty."
Mr. Gabriel • Parsons gave his friend an admonitory
tread on the toe. Here was a clear hint that the sooner
he ceased to be a bachelor and emancipated himself from
such penalties, the better. Mr. Watkins Tottle viewed
the observation in the same light, and challenged Mrs.
Parsons to take wine, with a degree of presence of mind
which, under all the circumstances, was really extraor-
dinary.
" Miss Lillerton," said Gabriel," may I have the pleas-
ure ? "
" I shall be most happy."
" Tottle, will you assist Miss Lillerton, and pass the
decanter. Thank you." (The usual pantomimic cere-
mony of nodding and sipping gone through) —
" Tottle, were you ever in Suffolk ?" inquired the
master of the house, who was burning to tell one of his
seven stock stories.
" No," responded Watkins, adding, by way of a saving
clause, " but I've been in Devonshire."
" Ah! " replied Gabriel, " it was in Suffolk that a
rather singular circumstance happened to me, many
years ago. Did you ever happen to hear me men-
tion it?"
Mr. Watkins Tottle had happened to hear his friend
mention it some four hundred times. Of course he ex-
pressed great curiosity, and evinced the utmost impa-
. MR. WATKINS TOTTLE. 281
tience to hear the story again. Mr. Gabriel Parsons
forthwith attempted to proceed, in spite of the interrup-
tions to which, as our readers must frequently have ob-
served, the master of the house is often exposed in such
cases. We will attempt to give them an idea of our
meaning.
"When I was in Suffolk," said Mr. Gabriel Par-
sons —
" Take off the fowls first, Martha," said Mrs. Parsons.
" I beg your pardon, my dear."
" When I was in Suffolk," resumed Mr. Parsons, with
an impatient glance at his wife, who pretended not to
observe it, " which is now some years ago, business led
me to the town of Bury St. Edmund's. I had to stop
at the principal places in my way, and therefore, for the
sake of convenience, I travelled in a gig. I left Sud-
bury one dark night — it was winter time — about nine
o'clock ; the rain poured in torrents, the wind howled
among the trees that skirted the roadside, and I was
obliged to proceed at a foot-pace, for I could hardly see
my hand before me, it was so dark — "
"John," interrupted Mrs. Parsons, in a low, hollow
voice, " don't spill that gravy."
" Fanny," said Pax-sons impatiently, " I wish you'd
defer these domestic repi-oofs to some more suitable time.
Really, my dear, these constant interruptions are very
annoying."
" My dear, I didn't interrupt you," said Mrs. Parsons.
" But, my dear, you did interrupt me," remonstrated
Mr. Parsons.
" How very absurd you are, my love ! I must give
directions to the servants ; 1 am quite sure that if I sat
here and allowed John to spill the gravy over the new
282
SKETCHES BY BOZ. .
carpet, you'd be the first to find fault when you saw the
stain to-morrow morning."
" Well," continued Gabriel, with a resigned air, as if
he knew there was no getting over the point about the
carpet, " I was just saying, it was so dark that I could
hardly see my hand before me. The road was very
lonely, and I assure you, Tottle (this was a device to
arrest the wandering attention of that individual, which
was distracted by a confidential communication between
Mrs. Parsons and Martha, accompanied by the delivery
of a large bunch of keys), I assure you, Tottle, I be-
came somehow impressed with a sense of the loneliness
of my situation — "
" Pie to your master," interrupted Mrs. Parsons, again
directing the servant.
" Now, pray, my dear," remonstrated Parsons once
more, very pettishly. Mrs. P. turned up her hands and
eyebrows, and appealed in dumb show to Miss Lillerton.
" As 1 turned a corner of the road," resumed Gabriel,
" the horse stopped short, and reared tremendously. I
pulled up, jumped out, ran to his head, and found a man
lying on his back in the middle of the road, with his eyes
fixed on the sky. I thought he was dead; but no, he
was alive, and there appeared to be nothing the matter
with him. He jumped up, and putting his hand to his
chest, and fixing upon me the most earnest gaze you can
magine, exclaimed — "
" Pudding here," said Mrs. Parsons.
" Oh! it's no use," exclaimed the host, now rendered
desperate. " Here, Tottle ; a glass of wine. It's use-
less to attempt relating anything when Mrs. Parsons is
present."
This attack was received in the usual way. Mrs. Par-
m MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
288
sons talked to Miss Lillerton and at her better half; ex-
patiated on the impatience of men generally; hinted that
her husband was peculiarly vicious in this respect, and
wound up by insinuating that she must be one of the
best tempers that ever existed, or she never could
put up with it. Really what she had to endure some-
times, was more than any one who saw her in every-day
life could by possibility suppose. — The story was now a
painful subject, and therefore Mr. Parsons declined to
enter into any details, and contented himself by stating
that the man was a maniac, who had escaped from a
neighboring mad-house.
The cloth was removed ; the ladies soon afterwards
retired, and Miss Lillerton played the piano in the' draw-
ing-room overhead, very loudly, for the edification of the
visitor. Mr. Watkins Tottle and Mr. Gabriel Parsons
sat chatting comfortably enough, until the conclusion of
the second bottle, when the latter, in proposing an ad-
journment to the drawing-room, informed Watkins that
he had concerted a plan with his wife, for leaving him
and Miss Lillerton alone, soon after tea.
" I say," said Tottle, as they went up-stairs, " don't you
think it would be better if we put it off till — till — to-
morrow ? "
" Don't you think it would have been much better if I
had left you in that wretched hole I found you in this
morning?" retorted Parsons, bluntly.
" Well — well — I only made a suggestion," said poor
Watkins Tottle, with a deep sigh.
Tea was soon concluded, and Miss Lillerton drawing a
small work-table on one side of the fire, and placing a
little wooden frame upon it, something like a miniature
284
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
clay-mill without the horse, was soon busily engaged in
making a watch-guard with brown silk.
" God bless me !" exclaimed Parsons, starting up with
well-feigned surprise, " I've forgotten those confounded
letters. Tottle, I know you'll excuse me."
If Tottle had been a free agent, he would have allowed
no one to leave the room on any pretence, except him-
self. As it was, however, he, was obliged to look cheer-
ful when Parsons quitted the apartment.
He had scarcely left, when Martha put her head into
the room, with — " Please, ma'am, you're wanted."
Mrs. Parsons left the room, shut the door carefully
after her, and Mr. Watkins Tottle was left alone with
Miss Lillerton.
For the first five minutes there was a dead silence. —
Mr. Watkins Tottle was thinking how he should begin,
and Miss Lillerton appeared to be thinking of nothing.
The fire was burning low ; Mr. Watkins Tottle stirred
it, and put some coals on.
Hem ! " coughed Miss Lillerton ; Mr. Watkins Tot-
tie thought the fair creature had spoken. " I beg your
pardon," said he.
« Eh?"
" I thought you spoke."
" No."
« Oh!"
"There are some books on the sofa, Mr. Tottle, if you
would like to look at them," said Miss Lillerton, after the
lap3e of another five minutes.
" No, thank you," returned Watkins: and then he
lidded, with a courage which was perfectly astonishing,
even to himself, "Madam, that is Miss Lillerton, I wish
to speak to you."
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
" To me ! " said Miss Lillerton, letting the silk drop
from her hands, and sliding her chair back a few paces.
— " Speak — to me ! "
" To you, madam — and on the subject of the state
of your affections." The lady hastily rose, and would
have left the room; but Mr. Watkins Tottle gently
detained her by the hand, and holding it as far from him
as the joint length of their arms would permit, he thus
proceeded : " Pray do not misunderstand me, or suppose
that 1 am led to address you, after so short an acquaint-
ance, by any feeling of my own merits — for merits I
have none which could give me a claim to your hand.
I hope you will acquit me of any presumption when I
explain that I have been acquainted through Mrs. Par-
sons, with the state — that is, that Mrs. Parsons has
told me — at least, not Mrs. Parsons, but " here
Watkins began to wander, but Miss Lillerton relieved
him.
" Am I to understand, Mr. Tottle, that Mrs. Parsons
has acquainted you with my feeling — my affection —
I mean my respect for an individual of the opposite
sex ? "
" She has."
" Then, what ? " inquired Miss Lillerton, averting her
face, with a girlish air, " what could induce you to seek
such an interview as this ? What can your object be ?
How can I promote your happiness, Mr. Tottle?"
Here was the time for a flourish —" By allowing
me," replied Watkins, falling bump on his knees, and
breaking two brace-buttons and a waistcoat-string, in
the act —" By allowing me to be your slave, your
servant — in short, by unreservedly making me the
jonfidant of your heart's feelings — may I say, for the
286
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
promotion of your own happiness — may I say, in ordei
that you may become the wife of a kind and affectionate
husband ?"
" Disinterested creature !" exclaimed Miss Lillerton,
hiding her face in a white pocket-handkerchief with an
eyelet-hole border.
Mr. Watkins Tottle thought that if the lady knew all,
she might possibly alter her opinion on this last point.
He raised the tip of her middle finger ceremoniously to
his lips, and got off his knees as gracefully as he could.
" My information was correct ?" he tremulously in-
quired, when he was once more on his feet.
" It was." Watkins elevated his hands and looked
up to the ornament in the centre of the ceiling, which
had been made for a lamp, by way of expressing his
rapture.
" Our situation, Mr. Tottle," resumed the lady, glan-
cing at him through one of the eyelet-holes, " is a most
peculiar and delicate one."
" It is," said Mr. Tottle.
" Our acquaintance has been of so short duration," said
Miss Lillerton.
" Only a week," assented Watkins Tottle.
" Oh ! more than that," exclaimed the lady, in a tone
of surprise.
" Indeed ! " said Tottle.
" More than a month — more than two months !" said
Miss Lillerton.
"Rather odd, this," thought Watkins.
" Oh ! " he said, recollecting Parsons's assurance that
she had known him from report, " I understand. But,
my dear madam, pray consider. The longer this ac-
quaintance has existed, the less reason is there for delay
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
287
now. Why not at once fix a period for gratifying the
hopes of your devoted admirer ? "
" It has been represented to me again and again that
this is the course I ought to pursue," replied Miss Liller-
ton, " but pardon my feelings of delicacy, Mr. Tottle —
pray excuse this embarrassment — I have peculiar ideas
on such subjects, and I am quite sure that I never could
summon up fortitude enough to name the day to my fu-
ture husband."
" Then allow me to name it," said Tottle, eagerly.
"I should like to fix it myself," replied Miss Liller-
ton, bashfully, "but I cannot do so without at once
resorting to a third party."
" A third party !" thought Watkins Tottle ; " who
the deuce is that to be, I wonder!"
" Mr. Tottle," continued Miss Lillerton, " you have
made me a most disinterested and kind offer — that offer
I accept. Will you at once be the bearer of a note from
me to — to Mr. Timson ? "
" Mr. Timson ! " said Watkins.
" After what has passed between us," responded Miss
Lillerton, still averting her head, " you must understand
whom I mean ; Mr. Timson, the — the — clergyman."
"Mr. Timson, the clergyman!" ejaculated Watkins
Tottle, in a state of inexpressible beatitude, and positive
wonder at his own success. " Angel! Certainly — this
moment!"
" I'll prepare it immediately," said Miss Lillerton,
making for the door; " the events of this day have
flurried me so much, Mr. Tottle, that I shall not leave
my room again this evening ; I will send you the note
by the servant."
" Stay — stay," cried Watkins Tottle, still keeping a
288
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
most respectful distance from the lady; " when shall we
meet again ? "
" Oh! Mr. Tottle," replied Miss Lillerton, coquet-
tishly, " when we are married, I can never see you too
often, nor thank you too much ; " and she left the room.
Mr. Watkins Tottle flung himself into an arm-chair,
and indulged in the most delicious reveries of future
bliss, in which the idea of " Five hundred pounds per
annum, with an uncontrolled power of disposing of it by
her last will and testament," was somehow or other the
foremost. He had gone through the interview so well,
and it had terminated so admirably, that he almost began
to wish he had expressly stipulated for the settlement of
the annual five hundred on himself.
" May I come in?" said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, peep-
ing in at the door.
" You may," replied Watkins.
" Well, have you done it ? " anxiously inquired Gabriel.
" Have I done it!" said Watkins Tottle, " Hush —
I'm going to the clergyman."
" No ! " said Parsons. " How well you have managed
it! "
" Where docs Timson live ? " inquired Watkins.
"At his uncle's," replied Gabriel, "just round the
lane. He's waiting for a living, and has been assisting
his uncle here for the last two or three months. But
how well you have done it — I didn't think you could
have carried it off so ! "
Mr. Watkins Tottle was proceeding to demonstrate
that the Richardsonian principle was the best on which
love could possibly be made, when he was interrupted
by the entrance of Martha, with a little pink note folded
like a fancy cocked hat.
MR. WATKJNS TOTTLE.
289
" Miss Lillerton's compliments," said Martha, as she
delivered it into Tottle's hands, and vanished.
" Do you observe the delicacy ? " said Tottle, appeal-
ing to Mr. Gabriel Parsons. " Compliments not love, by
the servant, eh ? "
Mr. Gabriel Parsons didn't exactly know what reply
to make, so he poked the forefinger of his right hand
between the third and fourth ribs of Mr. Watkins Tottle.
" Come," said Watkins, when the explosion of mirth
consequent on this practical jest had subsided, " we'll be
off" at once — let's lose no time."
" Capital !" echoed Gabriel Parsons ; and in five
minutes they were at the garden-gate of the villa ten-
anted by the uncle of Mr. Timson.
" Is Mr. Charles Timson at home ?" inquired Mr.
Watkins Tottle of Mr. Charles Timson's uncle's man.
" Mr. Charles is at home," replied the man, stammer-
ing,; " but he desired me to say he couldn't be inter-
rupted, sir, by any of the parishioners."
"i am not a parishioner," replied Watkins.
" Is Mr. Charles writing a sermon, Tom ? " inquired
Parsons, thrusting himself forward.
" No, Mr. Parsons, sir; he's not exactly writing a
sermon, hut he is practising the violoncello in his own
bedroom, and gave strict orders not to be disturbed."
" Say I'm here," replied Gabriel, leading the way
across the garden; " Mr. Parsons and Mr. Tottle, on
private and particular business."
They were shown into the parlor, and the servant de-
parted to deliver his message. The distant groaning
of the violoncello ceased; footsteps were heard on the
stairs; and Mr. Timson presented himself, and shook
hands with Parsons with the utmost cordiality,
von. n. 19
290
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
"How do you do, sir?" said Watkins Tottle, with
great solemnity.
" How do you do, sir ? " replied Timson, with as much
coldness as if it were a matter of perfect indifference to
him how he did, as it very likely was.
" I beg to deliver this note to you," said Watkins
Tottle, producing the cocked hat.
" From Miss Lillerton !" said Timson, suddenly
changing color. " Pray sit down."
Mr. Watkins Tottle sat down ; and while Timson pe-
rused the note, fixed his eyes on an oyster-sauce-colored
portrait of the Archbishop of Canterbury, which hung
over the fireplace.
Mr. Timson rose from his seat when he had concluded
the note, and looked dubiously at Parsons — " May I
ask," he inquired, appealing to Watkins Tottle, "whether
our friend here is acquainted with the object of your
visit ? "
"Our friend is in my confidence," replied Watkins,
with considerable importance.
" Then, sir," said Timson, seizing both Tottle's hands,
" allow me in his presence to thank you most unfeignedly
and cordially, for the noble part you have acted in this
affair."
" He thinks I recommended him," thought Tottle.
" Confound these fellows ! they never think of anything
but their fees."
" I deeply regret having misunderstood your inten-
tions, my dear sir," continued Timson. " Disinterested
and manly, indeed ! There are very few men who would
have acted as you have done."
Mr. Watkins Tottle could not help thinking that
this last remark was anything but complimentary.
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
291
He therefore inquired, rather hastily, " When is it to
be ? " '
" On Thursday," replied Timson, — " on Thursday
morning at half-past eight."
" Uncommonly early," observed Watkins Tottle, with
an air of triumphant self-denial. " I shall hardly be
able to get down here by that hour." (This was in-
tended for a joke.)
" Never mind, my dear fellow," replied Timson, all
suavity, shaking hands with Tottle again most heartily,
" so long as we see you to breakfast, you know — "
" Eh!" said Parsons, with one of the most extraor-
dinary expressions of countenance that ever appeared in
a human face.
"What!" ejaculated Watkins Tottle, at the same
moment.
" I say that so long as we see you to breakfast," re-
peated Timson, " we will excuse your being absent from
the ceremony, though of course your presence at it would
give us the utmost pleasure."
Mr. Watkins Tottle staggered against the wall, and
fixed his eyes on Timson with appalling perseverance.
" Timson," said Parsons, hurriedly brushing his hat
with his left arm, " when you say ' us,' whom do you
mean ? "
Mr. Timson looked foolish in his turn, when he re-
plied, " Why — Mrs. Timson that will be this day week :
Miss Lillerton that is — "
" Now don't stare at that idiot in the corner," angrily
exclaimed Parsons, as the extraordinary convulsions of
Watkins Tottle's countenance excited the wondering
gaze of Timson, — " but have the goodness to tell me
in three words the contents of that note."
292
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" This note," replied Timson, " is from Miss Lillerton,
to whom I have been for the last five -weeks regularly
engaged. Her singular scruples and strange feeling on
some points have hitherto prevented my bringing the
engagement to that termination which I so anxiously
desire. She informs me here, that she sounded Mrs.
Parsons with the view of making her her confidant and
go-between, that Mrs. Parsons informed this elderly gen-
tleman, Mr. Tottle, of the circumstance, and that he, in
the most kind and delicate terms, offered to assist us in
any way, and even undertook to convey this note, which
contains the promise I have long sought in vain — an
act of kindness for which I can never be sufficiently
grateful."
" Good night, Timson," said Parsons, hurrying off, and
carrying the bewildered Tottle with him.
" Won't you stay — and have something ? " said
Timson.
" No, thank ye," replied Parsons ; " I've had quite
enough;" and away he went, followed by Watkins
Tottle in a state of stupefaction.
Mr. Gabriel Parsons whistled until they had walked
some quarter of a mile past his own gate, when he
suddenly stopped, and said, —
" You are a clever fellow, Tottle, a'n't you ? "
" I don't know," said the unfortunate Watkins.
" I suppose you'll say this is Fanny's fault, won't you:"
inquired Gabriel. •
" I don't know anything about it," replied the bewil-
dered Tottle.
" Well," said Parsons, turning on his heel to go home,
" the next time you make an offer, you had better speak
plainly, and don't throw a chance away. And the next
MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.
293
time you're locked up in a spunging-house, just wait
there till I come and take you out, there's a good
fellow."
How, or at what hour, Mr. Watkins Tottle returned
to Cecil Street is unknown. His boots were seen out-
side his bedroom-door next morning; but we have the
authority of his landlady for stating that he neither
emerged therefrom nor accepted sustenance for four-and-
twenty hours. At the expiration of that period, and
when a council of war was being held in the kitchen on
the propriety of summoning the parochial beadle to break
his door open, he rang his bell, and demanded a cup of
milk-and-water. The next morning he went through the
formalities of eating and drinking as usual, but a week
afterwards he was seized with a relapse, while perusing
the list of marriages in a morning paper, from which he
never perfectly recovered.
A few weeks after the last-named occurrence, the body
of a gentleman unknown was found in the Regent's canal.
In the trousers-pockets were four shillings and threepence
halfpenny; a matrimonial advertisement from a lady,
which appeared to have been cut out of a Sunday paper;
a toothpick, and a card-case, which it is confidently be-
lieved would have led to the identification of the unfor-
tunate gentleman, but for the circumstance of there
being none but blank cards in it. Mr. Watkins Tottle
absented himself from his lodgings shortly before. A
bill, which has not been taken up, was presented next
morning; and a bill, which has not been taken down, was
toon afterwards affixed in his parlor-window.
201:
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
CHAPTER XI.
the bloomsbury christening.
[The Author may be permitted to observe that this sketch was pub-
lished some time before the Farce entitled " The Christening" was
first represented.]
Mr. Nicodemus Dumps, or, as his acquaintance
called him, " long Dumps," was a bachelor, six feet
high, and fifty years old; cross, cadaverous, odd, and ill-
natured. He was never happy but when he was miser-
able; and always miserable when he had the best reason
to be happy. The only real comfort of his existence was
to make everybody about him wretched — then he might
be truly said to enjoy life. He was afflicted with a situa-
tion in the Bank worth five hundred a year, and he rented
a " first-floor furnished," at Pentonville, which he origi-
nally took because it commanded a dismal prospect of an
adjacent churchyard. He was familiar with the face of
every tombstone, and the burial service seemed to excite
his strongest sympathy. His friends said he was surly
— he insisted he was nervous ; they thought him a lucky
dog, hut he protested that he was " the most unfortunate
man in the world." Cold as he was, and wretched as he
declared himself to be, he was not wholly unsusceptible
of attachments. He revered the memory of Hoyle, as
he was himself an admirable and imperturbable whist-
player, and he chuckled with delight at a fretful and
impatient adversary. He adored King Herod for his
massacre of the innocents ; and if he hated one thing
tnore than another, it was a child. However, he could
THE BI.OOMSBURY CHRISTENING. 295
hardly be said to hate anything in particular, because he
disliked everything in general; but perhaps his greatest
antipathies were cabs, old women, doors that would not
shut, musical amateurs, and omnibus cads. He sub-
scribed to the " Society for the Suppression of Vice," for
the pleasure of putting a stop to any harmless amuse-
rnents ; and he contributed largely towards the support
of two itinerant methodist parsons, in the amiable hope
that if circumstances rendered any people happy in this
world, they might perchance be rendered miserable by
fears for the next.
Mr. Dumps had a nephew who had been married
about a year, and who was somewhat of a favorite with
his uncle, because he was an admirable subject to exer-
cise his misery-creating powers upon. Mr. Charles Kit-
terbell was a small, sharp, spare man, with a very large
head, and a broad, good-humored countenance. He
looked like a faded giant, with the head and face partially
restored; and he had a cast in his eye which rendered
it quite impossible for any one with whom he conversed
to know where he was looking. His eyes appeared fixed
on the wall, and he was staring you out of countenance;
in short, there was no catching his eye, and perhaps it is
a merciful dispensation of Providence that such eyes are
not catching. In addition to these characteristics, it may
be added that Mr. Charles Kitterbell was one of the
most credulous and matter-of-fact little personages that
ever took to himself a wife, and for himself a house in
Great Russell Street* Bedford Square. (Uncle Dumps
always dropped the " Bedford Square," and inserted in
lieu thereof the dreadful words " Tottenham Court
Road.")
" No, but uncle, 'pon my life you must — you must
296
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
promise to be godfather," said Mr. Kitterbell, as he sat
in conversation with his respected relative one morning.
" I cannot, indeed I cannot," returned Dumps.
"Well, but why not? Jemima will think it very un-
kind. It's very little trouble."
" As to the trouble," rejoined the most unhappy man
in existence, " I don't mind that; but my nerves are in
that state—I cannot go through the ceremony. You
know I don't like going out. — For God's sake, Charles,
don't fidget with that stool so ; you'll drive me mad."
Mr. Kitterbell, quite regardless of his uncle's nerves,
had occupied himself for some ten minutes in describ-
iug a circle on the floor with one leg of the office-stool
on which he was seated, keeping the other three up in
the air, and holding fast on by the desk.
" I beg your pardon, uncle," said Kitterbell, quite
abashed, suddenly releasing his hold of the desk, and
bringing the three wandering legs back to the floor, with
a force sufficient to drive them through it.
" But come, don't refuse. If it's a boy, you know, we
must have two godfathers."
" If it's a boy ! " said Dumps ; " why can't you say at
once whether it is a boy or not ? "
" I should be very happy to tell you, but it's impossible
I can undertake to say whether it's a girl or a boy, if
the child isn't born yet."
" Not born yet! " echoed Dumps, with a gleam of hope
lighting up his lugubrious visage. " Oh, well, it may be
a girl, and then you won't want me ; or if it is a boy, it
may die before it is christened."
" I hope not," said the father that expected to be, look-
ing very grave.
"I hope not," acquiesced Dumps, evidently pleased
THE BLOOMSISURY CHRISTENING. 297
with the subject. He was beginning to get happy. " 1
hope not, but distressing cases frequently occur during
the first two or three days of a child's life; fits, I am
told, are exceedingly common, and alarming convulsions
are almost matters of course."
" Lord, uncle," ejaculated little Kitterbell, gasping for
breath.
" Yes ; my landlady was confined — let me see —last
Tuesday: an uncommonly fine boy. On the Thursday
night the nurse was sitting with him upon her knee be-
fore the fire, and he was as well as possible. Suddenly
he became black in the face, and alarmingly spasmodic.
The medical man was instantly sent for, and every
remedy was tried, but — "
" How frightful!" interrupted the horror-stricken
Kitterbell.
" The child died, yf course. However, your child may
not die ; and if it should be a boy, and should live to be
christened, why I suppose I must be one of the spon-
sors." Dumps was evidently good-natured on the faith
of his anticipations.
" Thank you, uncle," said his agitated nephew, grasp-
ing his hand as warmly as if he had done him some
essential service. " Perhaps I had better not tell Mrs.
K. what you have mentioned."
" Why, if she's low-spirited, perhaps you had better
not mention the melancholy case to her," returned Dumps,
who of course had invented^ the whole story; " though
perhaps it would be but doing your duty as a husband to
prepare her for the worst."
A day or two afterwards, as Dumps was perusing a
morning paper at the chop-house which he regularly fre-
quented, the following paragraph met his eye : —
298
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Births. — On Saturday, the 18th inst., iu Great Russell Street the
lady of Charles Kitterbell, Esq., of a son."
" It is a boy ! " he exclaimed, dashing down the paper,
to the astonishment of the waiters. " It is a boy ! " But
he speedily regained his composure as his eye rested on
a paragraph quoting the number of infant deaths from
the bills of mortality.
Six weeks passed away, and as no communication had
been received from the Kitterbells, Dumps was beginning
to flatter himself that the child was dead, when the fol-
lowing note painfully resolved his doubts : —
" Great Russell Street,
" Monday morning.
"Dear Uncle, — You will be delighted to hear that
my dear Jemima has left her room, and that your future
godson is getting on capitally. He was very thin at first,
but he is getting much larger, and nurse says he is filling
out every day. He cries a good deal, and is a very sin-
gular color, which made Jemima and me rather uncomfort-
able ; but as nurse says it's natural, and as of course we
know nothing about these things yet, we are quite satis-
fied with what nurse says. We think he will be a sharp
child ; and nurse says she's sure he will, because he
never goes to sleep. You will readily believe that we
are all very happy, only we're a little worn out for want
of rest, as he keeps us awake all night; but this we must
expect, nurse says, for the first six or eight months. He
lias been vaccinated, but in consequence of the operation
oeing rather awkwardly performed, some small particles
of glass were introduced into the arm with the matter.
Perhaps this may in some degree account for his being
rather fractious; at least, so nurse says. We propose
THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING. 299
to have him christened at twelve o'clock on Friday, at
St. George's church, in Hart Street, by the name of
Frederick Charles William. Pray don't be later than a
quarter before twelve. We shall have a very few friends
in the evening, when of course we shall see you. I am
sorry to say that the dear boy appears rather restless
and uneasy to-day: the cause, 1 fear, is fever.
" Believe me, dear Uncle,
" Yours affectionately,
" Charles Kitterbell.
" P. S. — I open this note to say that we have just dis-
covered the cause of little Frederick's restlessness. It is
not fever, as I apprehended, but a small pin, which nurse
accidentally stuck in his leg yesterday evening. We
have taken it out, and he appears more composed, though
he still sobs a good deal."
It is almost unnecessary to say that the perusal of the
above interesting statement was no great relief to the
mind of the hypochondriacal Dumps. It was impossible
to recede, however, and so he put the best face — that is
to say, an uncommonly miserable one — upon the matter;
and purchased a handsome silver mug for the infant Kit-
terbell, upon which he ordered the initials " F. C. W. K."
with the customary untrained grape-vine-looking flour-
ishes, and a large full stop, to be engraved forthwith.
Monday was a fine day, Tjiesday was delightful, Wed-
nesday was equal to either, and Thursday was finer than
ever; four successive fine days in London ! Hackney-
coachmen became revolutionary, and crossing-sweepers
began to doubt the existence of a First Cause. The
Morning Herald informed its readers that an old woman
300
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
in Camden Town had been heard to say that the fineness
of the season was " unprecedented in the memory of the
oldest inhabitant; " and Islington clerks with large fami-
lies and small salaries, left off their black gaiters, dis-
dained to carry their once green cotton umbrellas, and
walked to town in the conscious pride of white stockings
and cleanly brushed Bluchers. Dumps beheld all this
with an eye of supreme contempt — his triumph was at
hand. He knew that if it had been fine for four weeks
instead of four days, it would rain when he went out;
he was lugubriously happy in the conviction that Friday
would be a wretched day — and so it-was. " I knew how
it would be," said Dumps, as he turned round opposite the
Mansion House at half-past eleven o'clock on the Friday
morning. " I knew how it would be; I am concerned,
and that's enough ;" — and certainly the appearance of
the day was sufficient to depress the spirits of a much
more buoyant-hearted individual than himself. It had
rained, without a moment's cessation, since eight o'clock;
everybody that passed up Cheapside, and down Cheap-
side, looked wet, cold, and dirty. All sorts of forgotten
and long-concealed umbrellas bad been put into requisi-
tion. Cabs whisked about, with the " fare " as carefully
boxed up behind two glazed calico curtains as any mys-
terious picture in any one of Mrs. Radcliffe's castles;
omnibus horses smoked like steam-engines; nobody
thought of "standing up" under doorways or arches;
they were painfully convinced it was a hopeless case;
and so everybody went hastily along, jumbling and jost-
ling, and swearing and perspiring, and slipping about, like
amateur skaters behind wooden chairs on the Serpentine
on a frosty Sunday.
Dumps paused ; he could not think of walking, being
THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING. 301
rather smart for the christening. If he took a cab he
was sure to be spilt, and a hackney-coach was too ex-
pensive for his economical ideas. An omnibus was wait-
ing at the opposite corner — it was a desperate case —
he had never heard of an omnibus upsetting or running
away, and if the cad did knock him down, he could " pull
him up " in return.
" Now, sir! " cried the young gentleman who officiated
as " cad " to the " Lads of the Village," which was the
name of the machine just noticed. Dumps crossed.
" This vay, sir!" shouted the driver of the " Hark-
away," pulling up his vehicle immediately across the
door of the opposition — " This vay, sir — he's full."
Dumps hesitated, whereupon the " Lads of the Village "
commenced pouring out a torrent of abuse against the
" Hark-away; " but the conductor of the " Admiral
Napier " settled the contest in a most satisfactory man-
ner for all parties, by seizing Dumps round the waist,
and thrusting him into the middle of his vehicle which
had just come up and only wanted the sixteenth inside.
" All right," said the " Admiral," and off the thing
thundered, like a fire-engine at full gallop, with the kid-
napped customer inside, standing in the position of a
half doubled up bootjack, and falling about with every
jerk of the machine, first on the one side and then on
the other like a " Jack-in-the-green," on May-day, set-
ting to the lady with a brass ladle.
"For Heaven's sake, where am I to sit?" inquired
the miserable man of an old gentleman, into whose
stomach he had just fallen for the fourth time.
"Anywhere but on my chest, sir," replied the old
gentleman in a surly tone.
" Perhaps the box would suit the gentleman better,"
302
SKETCHES BY BOZ. •
raggested a very damp lawyer's clerk, in a pink shirt,
and a smirking countenance.
After a great deal of struggling and falling about,
Dumps at last managed to squeeze himself into a seat,
which in addition to the slight disadvantage of being bo
tween a window that would not shut, and a door that
must be open, placed him in close contact with a passeu-
ger who had been walking about all the morning without
an umbrella, and who looked as if he had spent the day
in a full water-butt — only wetter.
" Don't bang the door so," said Dumps to the con-
ductor, as he shut it, after letting out four of the pas-
sengers ; "lam very nervous — it destroys me."
" Did any gen'l'm'n say anythink ? " replied the cad,
thrusting in his head, and trying to look as if he didn't
understand the request.
" I told you not to bang the door so!" repeated
Dumps, with an expression of countenance like the
knave of clubs, in convulsions.
" Oh! vy, it's rather a sing'ler circumstance about (his
here door, sir, that it von't shut without banging," replied
the conductor; and he opened the door very wide, and
shut it again with a terrific bang, in proof of the asser-
tion.
" I beg your pardon, sir," said a little prim, wheezing
old gentleman, sitting opposite Dumps, " I beg your par-
don; but have you ever observed, when you have been
in an omnibus on a wet day, that four people out of five
always come in with large cotton umbrellas, without a
handle at the top, or the brass spike at the bottom r"
" Why, sir," returned Dumps, as he heard the clock
strike t welve, " it never struck me before ; but now you
mention it, I — Hollo ! hollo!" shouted the persecuted
THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING. 303
individual, as the omnibus dashed past Drury Lane,
where he had directed to be set down. — " Where is the
cad ?"
" I think he's on the box, sir," said the young gentle-
man before noticed in the pink shirt, which looked like a
white one ruled with red ink.
" I want to be set down !" said Dumps, in a faint
voice, overcome by his previous efforts.
" I think these cads wants to be set down" returned
the attorney's clerk, chuckling at his sally.
" Hollo !" cried Dumps again.
" Hollo!" echoed the passengers. The omnibus passed
St. Giles's church.
" Hold hard !" said the conductor; " I'm blowed if we
ha'n't forgot the gen'l'm'n as vas to be set down at Doory
Lane. — Now, sir, make haste, if you please," he added,
opening the door, and assisting Dumps out with as much
coolness as if it was " all right." Dumps's indignation
was for once getting the better of his cynical equanimity.
" Drury Lane!" he gasped, with the voice of a boy in a
cold bath for the first time.
" Doory Lane, sir ? —yes, sir, — third turning on the
right-hand side, sir."
Dumps's passion was paramount ; he clutched his uin-
brella, and was striding off with the firm determinatioo
of not paying the fare. The cad, by a remarkable coin-
cidence, happened to entertain a directly contrary opin-
ion, and Heaven knows how far the altercation would
have proceeded if it had not. been most ably and satis-
factorily brought to a close by the driver.
" Hollo ! " said that respectable person, standing up oil
lie box, and leaning with one hand on the roof of the
omnibus. " Hollo, Tom ! tell the gentleman if so be as
304
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
he feels aggrieved, we will take him up to the Edge-er
(Edgeware) Road for nothing, and set him down at
Doory Lane when we comes back. He can't reject
that, anyhow."
The argument was irresistible: Dumps paid the dis-
puted sixpence, and in a quarter of an hour was on the
staircase of No. 14, Great Russell Street.
Everything indicated that preparations were making
for the reception of " a few friends" in the evening.
Two dozen extra tumblers, and four ditto wine-glasses —
looking anything but transparent, with little bits of straw
in them —were on the slab in the passage, just arrived.
There was a great smell of nutmeg, port wine, and al-
monds, on the staircase ; the covers were taken off the
stair-carpet, and the figure of Venus on the first landing
looked as if she were ashamed of the composition-candle
in her right hand, which contrasted beautifully with the
lamp-blacked drapery of the goddess of love. The female
servant (who looked very warm and bustling) ushered
Dumps into a front drawing-room, very prettily fur-
nished, with a plentiful sprinkling of little baskets, paper
table-mats, china watchmen, pink and gold albums, and
rainbow-bound little books on the different tables.
" Ah, uncle! " said Mr. Kitterbell, " how d'ye do ?
Allow me — Jemima, my dear — my uncle. I think
you've seen Jemima before, sir ? "
" Have had the pleasure," returned big Dumps, his
tone and look making it doubtful whether in his life he
had ever experienced the sensation.
" I'm sure," said Mrs. Kitterbell, with a languid smile,
and a slight cough. " I'm sure — hem — any friend —
of Charles's — hem — much less a relation, is — "
" I knew you'd say so, my love," said little Kitterbell,
THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING. 305
who, while he appeared to be gazing on the opposite
houses, was looking at his wife with a most affectionate
air: " Bless you ! " The last two words were accompa-
nied with a simper, and a squeeze of the hand, which
stirred up all Uncle Dumps's bile.
"Jane, tell nurse to bring down baby," said Mrs. Kit-
terbell, addressing the servant. Mrs. Kitterbell was a
tall, thin young lady, with very light hair, and a particu-
larly white face — one of those young women who almost
invariably, though one hardly knows why, recall to one's
mind the idea of a cold fillet of veal. Out went the ser-
vant, and in came the nurse, with a remarkably small
parcel in her arms, packed up in a blue mantle trimmed
with white fur, — This was the baby.
• " Now, uncle," said Mr. Kitterbell, lifting up that part
of the mantle which covered the infant's face, with an air
of great triumph, " Who do you think he's like ? "
"He ! he ! Yes, who?" said Mrs. K., putting her arm
through her husband's, and looking up into Dumps's face
with an expression of as much interest as she was-capa-
ble of displaying.
" Good God, how small he is! " cried the amiable
uncle, starting back with well-feigned surprise ; " re-
markably small indeed."
" Do you think so ? " inquired poor little Kitterbell,
rather alarmed. " He's a monster to what he was —
a'n't he, nurse ? "
" He's a dear," said the nurse, squeezing the child, and
evading the question — not because she scrupled to dis-
guise the fact, but because she couldn't afford to throw
away the chance of Dumps's half-crown.
" Well, but who is he like ? " inquired little Kitterbell.
Dumps looked at the little pink heap before him, and
vol. ii. 20
806
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
only thought at the moment of the best mode of mortify
ing the youthful parents.
" I really don't know who he's like," he answered, very
well knowing the reply expected of him.
" Don't you think he's like me ? " inquired his nephew
with a knowing air.
" Oh, decidedly not! " returned Dumps, with an em-
phasis not to be misunderstood. "Decidedly not like
you. — Oh, certainly not."
" Like Jemima ? " asked Kitterbell, faintly.
" Oh dear, no ; not in the least. I'm no judge, of
course, in such cases ; but I really think he's more like
one of those little carved representations that one some-
times sees blowing a trumpet on a tombstone!" The
nurse stooped down over the child, and with great diffi-
culty prevented an explosion of mirth. Pa and ma
looked almost 'as miserable as their amiable uncle.
" Well!" said the disappointed little father, " you'll be
better able to tell what he's like by and by. You shall
see him this evening with his mantle off."
" Thank you," said Dumps, feeling particularly grate-
ful.
" Now, my love," said Kitterbell to his wife, " it's time
we were off. We're to meet the oiher godfather, and the
godmother at the church, uncle, — Mr. and Mrs. Wilson
from over the way — uncommonly nice people. My love,
are you well wrapped up?"
'• Yes, dear."
"Are you sure you won't have another shawl?" in-
quired the anxious husband.
" No, sweet," returned the charming mother, accepting
Dumps's proffered arm; and the little party entered the
hackney-coach that was to take them to the church;
THE BI.OOMSBURY CHRISTENING. 307
Dumps amusing Mrs. Kitterbell by expatiating largely
on the danger of measles, thrush, teeth-cutting, and other
interesting diseases to which children are subject.
The ceremony (which occupied about five minutes)
passed off without anything particular occurring. The
clergyman had to dine some distance from town, and had
two churchings, three christenings, and a funeral to per-
form in something less than an hour. The godfathers
and godmother, therefore, promised to renounce the devil
and all his works — u and all that sort of thing " — as
little Kitterbell said —" in less than no time ; " and,
with the exception of Dumps nearly letting the child fall
into the font when he handed it to the clergyman, the
whole affair went off" in the usual business-like and
matter-of-course manner, and Dumps reentered the
Bank-gates at two o'clock with a heavy heart, and the
painful conviction that he was regularly booked for an
evening party.
Evening came — and so did Dumps's pumps, black
silk stockings, and white cravat which he had ordered to
be forwarded, per boy, from Pentonville. The depressed
godfather dressed himself at a friend's counting-house,
from whence, with his spirits fifty degrees below proof,
he sallied forth — as the weather had cleared up, and
the evening wa,s tolerably fine — to walk to Great Rus-
sell Street. Slowly he paced up Cheapside, Newgate.
Street, down Snow Hill, and up Holborn ditto, looking
as grim as the figure-head of a man-of-war. and finding
out fresh causes of misery at every step. As he was
crossing the corner of Hatton Garden, a man apparently
intoxicated rushed against him, and would have knocked
him down, had he not been providentially caught by a
very genteel young man, who happened to be close to
308
SKETCHES BY Bf>Z.
him at the time. The shock so disarranged Dumps's
nerves, as well as his dress, that he could hardly stand.
The gentleman took his arm, and in the kindest manner
walked with him as far as Furnival's Inn. Dumps,
for about the first time in his life, felt grateful and polite ;
and he and the gentlemanly looking young man parted
with mutual expressions of good will.
"There are at least some well-disposed men in the
world," ruminated the misanthropical Dumps, as he pro-
ceeded towards his destination.
Rat — tat — ta-ra-ra-ra-ra-rat — knocked a hackney-
coachman at Kitterbell's door, in imitation of a gentle-
man's servant, just as Dumps reached it; and out came
an old lady in a large toque, and an old gentleman in a
blue coat, and three female copies of the old lady in pink
dresses, and shoes to match.
" It's a large party," sighed the unhappy godfather,
wiping the perspiration from his forehead, and leaning
against the area-railings. It was some time before the
miserable man could muster up courage to knock at the
door, and when he did, the smart appearance of a neigh-
boring greengrocer (who had been hired to wait for seven
and sixpence, and whose calves alone were worth double
tbe money), the lamp in the passage, and the Venus on
the landing, added to the hum of many voices, and the
sound of a harp and two violins, painfully convinced him
that his surmises were but too well-founded.
" How are you ?" said little Ivitterbell. in a greater
hustle than ever, bolting out of the little back-parlor with
a corkscrew in his hand, and various particles of saw-
dust, looking like so many inverted commas, on his inex-
pressibles.
" Good God !" said Dumps, turning into the aforesaid
THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING. 309
parlor to put his shoes on which he had brought in his
coat-pocket, and still more' appalled by the sight of
Beven fresh-drawn corks, and a corresponding number of
decanters. " How many people are there up-stairs ? "
" Oh, not above thirty-five. We've had the carpet
taken up in the back drawing-room, and the piano and
the card-tables are in the front. Jemima thought we'd
better have a regular sit-down supper in the front parlor,
because of the speechifying, and all that. But, Lord i
uncle, what's the matter ?" continued the excited little
man, as Dumps stood with one shoe on, rummaging his
pockets with the most frightful distortion of visage.
" What have you lost ? Your pocket-book ? "
" No," returned Dumps, diving first into one pocket
and then into the other, and speaking in a voice like Des-
demona with the pillow over her mouth.
" Your card-case ? snuff-box ? the key of your lodg-
ings ?" continued Kitterbell, pouring question on ques-
tion with the rapidity of lightning.
" No! no!" ejaculated Dumps, still diving eagerly into
his empty pocket.
" Not — not — the mug you spoke of this morning ? "
" Yes, the mug!" replied Dumps, sinking into a
chair.
" How could you have done it ? " inquired Kitterbell.
" Are you sure you brought it out ? "
" Yes ! yes ! I see it all," said Dumps, starting up as
the idea flashed across his mind ; " miserable dog that I
am — I was born to suffer. I see it all; it was the gen-
tlemanly looking young man ! "
" Mr. Dumps !" shouted the greengrocer in a stento-
rian voice, as he ushered the somewhat x-ecovered god-
father into the drawing-room half an hour after the
310
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
above declaration. " Mr. Dumps!" — everybody looked
at the door, and in came Dumps, feeling about as much
out of place as a salmon might be supposed to be on a
gravel-walk.
" Happy to see you again," said Mrs. Kitterbell, quite
unconscious of the unfortunate man's confusion and
misery; " you must allow me to introduce you to a few
of our friends : — my mamma, Mr. Dumps — my papa
and sisters." Dumps seized the hand of the mother as
warmly as if she was his own parent, bowed to the
young ladies, and against a gentleman behind him, and
took no notice whatever of the father, who had been
bowing incessantly for three minutes and a quarter.
" Uncle," said little Kitterbell, after Dumps had been
introduced to a select dozen or two, " you must let me
lead you to the other end of the room, to introduce you to
my friend Danton. Such a splendid fellow! —- I'm sure
you'll like him — this way," — Dumps followed as trac-
tably as a tame bear.
Mr. Danton was a young man of about five-and-
twenty, with a considerable stock of impudence, and a
very small share of ideas : he was a great favorite, espe-
daily with young ladies of from sixteen to twenty-six
years of age, both inclusive. He could imitate the
French-horn to admiration, sang comic songs most inimi-
tably, and had the most insinuating way of saying imper-
tinent nothings to his doting female admirers. He had
acquired, somehow or other, the reputation of being a
great wit, and accordingly, whenever he opened his
mouth, everybody who knew him laughed very heartily.
The introduction took place in due form. Mr. Dan-
ton bowed, and twirled a lady's handkerchief, which
he held in his hand, in a most comic way. Everybody
smiled.
THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING. 811
" Very warm," said Dumps, feeling it necessary to say
something.
"Yes. It was warmer yesterday," returned the brill-
iant Mr. Danton. — A general laugh.
" I have great pleasure in congratulating you on your
first appearance in the character of a father, sir," he con-
tinued, addressing Dumps — " godfather, I mean." — The
young ladies were convulsed, and the gentlemen in
ecstasies.
A general hum of admiration interrupted the conver-
sation, and announced the entrance of nurse with the
baby. An universal rush of the young ladies imme-
diately took place. (Girls are always so fond of babies
in company.)
" Oh, you dear!" said one.
" How sweet!" cried another, in a low tone of the
most enthusiastic admiration.
" Heavenly !" added a third.
" Oh ! what dear little arms ! " said a fourth, holding
up an arm and fist about the size and shape of the leg
of a fowl cleanly picked.
" Did you ever ! " — said a little coquette with a large
bustle, who looked like a French lithograph, appealing to
a gentleman in three waistcoats — " Did you ever!"
" Never in my life," returned her admirer, pulling up
his collar.
" Oh! do let me take it, nurse," cried another young
lady. " The love ! "
" Can it open its eyes, nurse ?" inquired another,
affecting the utmost innocence. — Suffice it to say, that
the single ladies unanimously voted him an angel, and
that the married ones, num. con., agreed that he was de-
cidedly the finest baby they had ever beheld — except
312
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
The quadrilles were resumed with great spirit. Mr.
Danton was universally admitted to be beyond himself,
several young ladies enchanted the company and gained
admirers by singing "We met"—"I saw her at the
Fancy Fair " — and other equally sentimental and inter-
esting ballads. " The young men," as Mrs. Kitterbell
Baid, " made themselves very agreeable ; " the girls did
not lose their opportunity ; and the evening promised to
go off excellently. Dumps didn't mind it; he had de-
vised a plan for himself — a little bit of fun in his own
way — and he was almost happy ! He played a rubber
and lost every point. Mr. Danton said he could not
have lost every point, because he made a point of
losing: everybody laughed tremendously. Dumps re-
•torted with a better joke, and nobody smiled, with the
exception of the host, who seemed to consider it his
duty to laugh till he was black in the face, at every-
thing. There was only one drawback — the musicians
did not play with quite as much spirit as could have been
wished. The cause, however, was satisfactorily explain-
ed; for it appeared, on the testimony of a gentleman who
had come up from Gravesend in the afternoon, that they
had been engaged on board a steamer all day, and had
played almost without cessation all the way to Graves-
end, and all the way back again.
The " sit-down supper" was excellent; there were
four barley-sugar temples on the table, which would
have looked beautiful if they had not melted away when
the supper began; and a water-mill, whose only fault
was that instead of going round it ran over the table-
cloth. Then there were fowls, and tongue, and trifle,
and sweets, and lobster salad, and potted beef — and
everything. And little Kitterbell kept calling out for
THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING. SIS
clean plates, and the clean plates did not come; and
then the gentlemen who wanted the plates said they
didn't mind, they'd take a lady's ; and then Mrs. Kitter-
bell applauded their gallantry, and the greengrocer ran
about till he thought his seven and sixpence was very
hardly earned ; and the young ladies didn't eat much for
fear it shouldn't look romantic, and the married ladies ate
as much as possible, for fear they shouldn't have enough;
and a great deal of wine was drunk, and everybody
talked and laughed considerably.
" Hush ! hush ! " said Mr. Kitterbell, rising and look-
ing very important. " My love (this was addressed to
his wife at the other end of the table), take care of Mrs.
Maxwell, and your mamma and the rest of the married
ladies ; the gentlemen will persuade the young ladies to
fill their glasses, I am sure.
" Ladies and gentlemen," said long Dumps, in a very
sepulchral voice and rueful accent, rising from his chair
like the ghost in Don Juan, " will you have the kindness
to charge your glasses ? I am desirous of proposing a
toast."
A dead silence ensued, and the glasses were filled —
everybody looked serious.
" Ladies and gentlemen," slowly continued the omi-
nous Dumps, " I" — (here Mr. Danton imitated two
notes from the French-horn, in a very loud key, which
electrified the nervous toast-proposer, and convulsed his
audience).
" Order! order ! " said little Kitterbell, endeavoring to
suppress his laughter.
" Order! " said the gentlemen.
" Danton, be quiet," said a particular friend on the
opposite side of the, table.
314
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Ladies and gentlemen," resumed Dumps, somewhat
recovered, and not much disconcerted, for he was always
a pretty good hand at a speech — " In accordance with
what is, I believe, the established usage on these ocea-
sions, I, as one of the godfathers of Master Frederick
Charles William Kitterbell — (here the speaker's voice
faltered, for he remembered the mug) —venture to rise
to propose a toast. I need hardly say that it is the health
and prosperity of that young gentleman, the particular
event of whose early life we are here to celebrate —
(applause). Ladies and gentlemen, it is impossible to
suppose that our friends here, whose sincere well-wishers
we all are, can pass through life without some trials, con-
siderable suffering, severe affliction, and heavy losses!"
— Here the arch-traitor paused, and slowly drew forth a
long, white pocket-handkerchief — his example was fol-
lowed by several ladies. " That these trials may be long
spared them is my most earnest prayer, my most fervent
wish (a distinct sob from the grandmother). I hope and
trust, ladies and gentlemen, that the infant whose chris-
tening we have this evening met to celebrate, may not
be removed from the arms of his parents by premature
decay (several cambrics were in requisition) ; that his
young and now apparently healthy form may not be
wasted by lingering disease. (Here Dumps cast a sar-
donic glance around, for a great sensation was manifest
among the married ladies.) You, I am sure, will concur
with me in wishing that he may live to be a comfort and
a blessing to his parents. (• Hear, hear !' and an audible
sob from Mr. Kitterbell.) But should he not be what
ve could wish —should he forget in after-times the
duty which he owes to them — should they unhappily ex-
perience that distracting truth, ' how sharper than a ser-
THE BI.OOMSBURY CHRISTENING. 315
pent's tooth it is to have a thankless child.' " — Here
Mrs. Kitterbell, with her handkerchief to her eyes, and
accompanied by several ladies, rushed from the room,
and went into violent hysterics in the passage, leaving
her better half in almost as bad a condition, and a gen-
eral impression in Dumps's favor ; for people like senti-
ment, after all.
It need hardly be added, that this occurrence quite put
a stop to the harmony of the evening. Vinegar, harts-
horn, and cold water, were now as much in request as
negus, rout-cakes, and bon-bons had been a short time
before. Mrs. Kitterbell was immediately conveyed to
her apartment, the musicians were silenced, flirting
ceased, and the company slowly departed. Dumps left
the house at the commencement of the bustle, and walked
home with a light step, and (for him) a cheerful heart. His
landlady who slept in the next room, has offered to make
oath that she heard him laugh, in his peculiar manner,
after he had locked his door. The assertion, however, is
so improbable, and bears on the face of it such strong
evidence of untruth, that it has never obtained credence
to this hour.
The family of Mr. Kitterbell has considerably in-
creased since the period to which we have referred; he
has now two sons and a daughter ; and as he Expects, at
no distant period, to have another addition to his bloom-
ing progeny, he is anxious to secure an eligible godfather
for the occasion. He is determined, however, to impose
upon him two conditions. He must bind himself, by a
solemn obligation, not to make any speech after supper;
and it is indispensable that he should be in no way con-
uected with " the most miserable man in the world."
316 SKETCHES BY BOZ.
CHAPTER Xn.
the drunkard's death.
We will be bold to say, that there is scarcely a man
in the constant habit of walking, day after day, through
any of the crowded thoroughfares of London, who can-
not recollect among the people whom he "knows by
sight," to use a familiar phrase, some being of abject and
wretched appearance whom he remembers to have seen
in a very different condition, whom he has observed sink-
ing lower and lower, by almost imperceptible degrees, and
the shabbiness and utter destitution of whose appearance,
at last, strike forcibly and painfully upon him, as he
passes by. Is there any man who has mixed much
with society, or whose avocations have caused him to
mingle, at one time or other, with a great number of
people, who cannot call to mind the time when some
shabby, miserable wretch, in rags and filth, who shuffles
past him now in all the squalor of disease and poverty,
was a respectable tradesman, or a clerk, or a man follow-
ing some thriving pursuit, with good prospects, and de-
cent means ? — or cannot any of our readers call to mind
from among the list of their quondam acquaintance, some
fallen and degraded man, who lingers about the pave-
ment in hungry misery — from whom every one turns
coldly away, and who preserves himself from sheer star-
vation, nobody knows how ? Alas! such cases are of too
frequent occurrence to be rare items in any man's expe-
rienoe; and but too often arise from one cause — drunk-
THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH.
317
enness — that fierce rage for the slow, sure poison, that
oversteps every other consideration; that casts aside
wife, children, friends, happiness, and station ; and hur-
ries its victims madly on to degradation and death.
Some of these men have been impelled, by misfortune
and misery, to the vice that has degraded them. The
ruin of worldly expectations, the death of those they
loved, the sorrow that slowly consumes, but will not
break the heart, has driven them wild ; and they present
the hideous spectacle of madmen, slowly dying by their
own hands. But by far the greater part have wil-
fully, and with open eyes, plunged into the gulf from
which the man who once enters it never rises more, but
into which he sinks deeper and deeper down, until recov-
ery is hopeless.
Such a man as this once stood by the bedside of his
dying wife, while his children knelt around and mingled
low bursts of grief with their innocent prayers. The
room was scantily and meanly furnished; and it needed
but a glance at the pale form from which the light of life
was fast passing away, to know that grief, and want, and
anxious care, had been busy at the heart for many a
weary year. An elderly female, with her face bathed
in tears, was supporting the head of the dying woman —
her daughter — on her arm. But it was not towards her
that the wan face turned ; it was not her hand that the
cold and trembling fingers clasped ; they pressed the
husband's arm ; the eyes so soon to be closed in death
rested on his face, and the man shook beneath their gaze.
His dress was slovenly and disordered, his face inflamed,
his eyes bloodshot and heavy. He had been summoned
from some wild debauch to the bed of sorrow and death.
A shaded lamp by the bedside cast a dim light on the
318
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
figures around, and left the remainder of the room in
thick, deep shadow. The silence of night prevailed
without the house, and the stillness of death was in the
chamber. A watch hung over the mantel-shelf; its low
ticking was the only sound that broke the profound quiet,
but it was a solemn one, for well they knew who heard
it, that before it had recorded the passing of another
hour, it would beat the knell of a departed spirit.
It is a dreadful thing to wait and watch for the ap-
proach of death ; to know that hope is gone, and recov-
ery impossible; and to sit and count the dreary hours
through long, long, nights — such nights as only watch-
ers by the bed of sickness know. It chills the blood to
hear the dearest secrets of the heart — the pent-up, hid-
den secrets of many years — poured forth by the uncon-
scious helpless being before you ; and to think how little
the reserve and cunning of a whole life will avail, when
fever and delirium tear off the mask at last. Strange
tales have been told in the wanderings of dying men;
tales so full of guilt and crime, that those who stood by
the sick person's couch have fled in horror and affright,
lest they should be scared to madness by what they heard
and saw ; and many a wretch has died alone, raving of
deeds the very name of which has driven the boldest
man away.
But no such ravings were to be heard at the bedside
by which the children knelt. Their half-stifled sobs am
moanings alone broke the silence of the lonely chamber
And when at last the mother's grasp relaxed, and, turn-
ing one look from the children to their father, she vainly
strove to speak, and fell backward on the pillow, all was
so calm and tranquil that she seemed to sink to sleep.
They leant over her; they called upon her name, softly
THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH.
319
at first, and then in the loud and piercing tones of despe-
ration. But there was no reply. They listened for her
breath, but no sound came. They felt for the palpitation
of the heart, but no faint throb responded to the touch.
That heart was broken, and she was dead!
The husband sunk into a chair by the bedside, and
clasped his hands upon his burning forehead. He gazed
from child to child, but when a weeping eye met his, he
quailed beneath its look. No word of comfort was whis-
pered in his ear, no look of kindness lighted on his face.
All shrunk from and avoided him ; and when at last he
staggered from the room, no one sought to follow or con-
sole the widower.
The time had been when many a friend would have
crowded round him in his affliction, and many a heartfelt
condolence would have met him in his grief. Where
were they now ? One by one, friends, relations, the
commonest acquaintance even, had fallen off from and
deserted the drunkard. His wife alone had clung to
him in good and evil, in sickness and poverty; and how
had he rewarded her ? He had reeled from the tavern
to her bedside, in time to see her die.
He rushed from the house, and walked swiftly
through the streets. Remorse, fear, shame, all crowded
on his mind. Stupefied with drink, and bewildered with
the scene he had just witnessed, he re-entered the tavern
he had quitted shortly before. Glass succeeded glass.
His blood mounted, and his brain whirled round.
Death! Every one must die, and why not she. She
was too good for him; her relations had often told him
so. Curses on them! Had they not deserted her, and
left her to whine away the time at home ? Well — she
was dead, and happy perhaps. It was better as it was
820
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
Another glass — one more! Hurrah! It was a merry
life while it lasted; and he would make the most of it.
Time went on; the three children who were left to
him, grew up, and were children no longer. The father
remained the same — poorer, shabbier, and more disso-
lute-looking, but the same confirmed and irreclaimable
drunkard. The boys had, long ago, run wild in the
streets, and left him; the girl alone remained, but she
worked hard, and words or blows could always procure
him something for the tavern. So he went on in the old
course, and a merry life he led.
One night, as early as ten o'clock, for the girl had been
sick for many days, and there was, consequently, little to
spend at the public-house — he bent his steps home-
wards, bethinking himself that if he would have her
able to earn money, it would be as well to apply to the
parish surgeon, or, at all events, to take the trouble of
inquiring what ailed her, which he had not yet thought
it worth while to do. It was a wet December night;
the wind blew piercing cold, and the rain poured heavily
down. He begged a few halfpence from a passer-by, and
having bought a small loaf (for it was his interest to keep
the girl alive, if he could), he shuffled onwards as fast as
the wind and rain would let him.
At the back of Fleet Street, and lying between it
and the water-side, are several mean and narrow courts,
which form a portion of Whitefriars; it was to one of
these that he directed his steps.
The alley into which he turned, might, for filth and
misery, have competed with the darkest corner of this
ancient sanctuary in its dirtiest and most lawless time.
The houses, varying from two stories in height to four,
were stained with every indescribable hue that long ex-
THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH.
831
posure to the weather, damp, and rottenness can impart
to tenements composed originally of the roughest and
coarsest materials. The windows were patched with
paper, and stuffed with the foulest rags ; the doors were
falling from their hinges; poles with lines on which to
dry clothes, projected from every casement, and sounds
of quarrelling or drunkenness issued from every room.
The solitary oil lamp in the centre of the court had
been blown out, either by the violence of the wind or
the act of some inhabitant who had excellent reasons for
objecting to his residence being rendered too conspicuous;
and the only light which fell upon the broken and uneven
pavement, was derived from the miserable candles that
here and there dwindled in the rooms of such of the
more fortunate residents as could afford to indulge in so
expensive a luxury. A gutter ran down the centre of
the alley — all the sluggish odors of which had been
called forth by the rain; and as the wind whistled
through the old houses, the doors and shutters creaked
upon their hinges, and the windows shook in their frames,
with a violence which every moment seemed to threaten
the destruction of the whole place.
The man whom we have followed into this den, walked
on in the darkness, sometimes stumbling into the main
gutter, and at others into some branch repositories of
garbage which had been formed by the rain, until he
reached the last house in the court. The door, or rather
what was left of it, stood ajar, for the convenience of the
numerous lodgers; and he proceeded to grope his way up
the old and broken stair, to the attic story.
He was within a step or two of his room - door,
when it opened, and a girl, whose miserable and ema-
liated appearance was only to be equalled by that of
VOL. II. 21
822
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
the candle which she shaded with her hand, peeped anx
iously out.
" Is that you, father ? " said the girl.
" Who else should it be ? " replied the man gruffly.
"What are you trembling at? It's little enough that
I've had to drink to-day, for there's no drink without
money, and no money without work. What the devil's
the matter with the girl ? "
" I am not well, father — not at all well," said the girl,
bursting into tears.
" Ah ! " replied the man, in the tone of a person who
is compelled to admit a very unpleasant fact, to which he
would rather remain blind, if he could. " You must get
better somehow, for we must have money. You must
go to the parish doctor, and make him give you some
medicine. They're paid for it, damn 'em. What are
you standing before the door for? Let me come in,
can't you ? "
" Father," whispered the girl, shutting the door behind
her, and placing herself before it, " William has come
back."
" Who !" said the man with a start.
" Hush," replied the girl, " William; brother Wil-
liam."
"And what does he want?" said the man, with an
effort at composure —" money ? meat ? drink ? He's
come to the wrong shop for that, if he does. Give me
the candle — give me the candle, fool — I a'n't going to
hurt him." He snatched the candle from her hand, and
walked into the room.
Sitting on an old box, with his head resting on his
hand, and his eyes fixed on a wretched cinder fire that
was smouldering on the hearth, was a young man of
THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH.
823
aoout two-and-twenty, miserably clad in an old coarse
jacket and trousers. He started up when his father
entered.
" Fasten the door, Mary," said the young man hastily
— "Fasten the door. You look as if you didn't know
me, father. It's long enough since you drove me from
home ; you may well forget me."
" And what do you want here, now ? " said the father,
seating himself on a stool, on the other side of the fire-
place. " What do you want here, now ? "
" Shelter," replied the son. " I'm in trouble ; that's
enough. If I'm caught I shall swing; that's certain.
Caught I shall be, unless I stop here ; that's as certain.
And there's an end of it."
" You mean to say, you've been robbing, or murdering,
then ? " said the father.
" Yes I do," replied the son. " Does it surprise you,
father ? " He looked steadily in the man's face, but he
withdrew his eyes, and bent them on the ground.
" Where's your brothers ? " he said, after a long pause.
" Where they'll never trouble you," replied his son:
" John's gone to America, and Henry's dead."
" Dead ! " said the father, with a shudder, which even
he could not repress.
" Dead," replied the young man. " He died in my
arms — shot like a dog, by a gamekeeper. He staggered
back, I caught him, and his blood trickled down my
hands. It poured out from his side like water. He was
weak, and it blinded him, but he threw himself down on
his knees, on the grass, and prayed to God, that if his
mother was in heaven, He would hear her prayers for
pardon for her youngest son. ' I was her favorite boy,
Will,' he said,' and I am glad to think, now, that when
324
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
she was dying, though I was a very young child then,
and my little heart was almost bursting, I knelt down at
the foot of the bed, and thanked God for having made
me so fond of her as to have never once done anything
to bring the tears into her eyes. O Will, why was she
taken away, and father left!' There's his dying words,
father," said the young man; " make the best you can
of 'em. You struck him across the face, in a drunken
fit, the morning we ran away; and here's the end of
it!" ^
The girl wept aloud ; and the father, sinking his head
upon his knees, rocked himself to and fro.
"If I am taken," said the young man, " I shall be car-
ried back into the country, and hung for that man's mur-
der. They cannot trace me here, without your assist-
ance, father. For aught I know, you may give me up
to justice; but unless yon do, here I stop, until I can
venture to escape abroad."
For two whole days, all three remained in the wretched
room, without stirring out. On the third evening, how-
ever, the girl was worse than she had been yet, and the
few scraps of food they had were gone. It was indis-
pensably necessary that somebody should go out; and as
the girl was too weak and ill, the father went, just at
nightfall.
He got some medicine for the girl, and a trifle in the
way of pecuniary assistance. On his way back, he earned
sixpence by holding a horse; and he turned homewards
with enough money to supply their most pressing wants
for two or three days to come. He had to pass the public-
house. He lingered for an instant, walked past it, turned
back again, lingered once more, and finally slunk in.
Two men whom he had not observed, were on the watch.
THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH. 825
They were on the point of giving up their search in de-
spair, when his loitering attracted their attention; and
when he entered the public-house, they followed him.
"You'll drink with me, master," said one of them,
proffering him a glass of liquor.
" And me too," said the other, replenishing the glass
as soon as it was drained of its contents.
The man thought of his hungry children, and his son's
danger. But they were nothing to the drunkard. He
did drink ; and his reason left him.
" A wet night, Warden," whispered one of the mem in
his ear, as he at length turned to go away, after spending
in liquor one-half of the money on which, perhaps, his
daughter's life depended.
" The right sort of night for our Mends in hiding,
Master Warden," whispered the other.
" Sit down here," said the one who had spoken first,
drawing him into a corner. " We have been looking
arter the young un. We came to fell him, it's all right
now, but we couldn't find him, 'cause we hadn't got the
precise direction. But that a'n't strange, for I don't
think he know'd it himself, when he come to London, did
he?"
" No, he didn't," replied the father.
The two men exchanged glances.
" There's a vessel down at the docks, to sail at mid-
night, when it's high water," resumed the first speaker,
" and we'll put him on board. His passage is taken in
another name, and what's better than that, it's paid for.
It's lucky we met you."
" Very," said the second.
" Capital luck," said the first, with a wink to his com-
panics*.
326
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
" Great," replied the second, with a slight nod of intelr
ligence.
" Another glass here ; quick " — said the first speaker.
And in five minutes more, the father had unconsciously
yielded up his own son into the hangman's hands.
Slowly and heavily the time dragged along, as the
brother and sister, in their miserable hiding-place, lis-
tened in anxious suspense to the slightest sound. At
length, a heavy footstep was heard upon the stair; it
approached nearer; it reached the landing: and the
father staggered into the room.
The girl saw that he was intoxicated, and advanced
with the candle in her hand to meet him; she stopped
short, gave a loud scream, and fell senseless on the
ground. She had caught sight of the shadow of a man
reflected on the floor. They both rushed in, and in
another instant the youDg man was a prisoner, and hand-
cuffed.
" Very quietly done," said one of the men to his com-
panion, " thanks to the old man. Lift up the girl, Tom
— Come, come, it's no use crying, young woman. It's
all over now, and can't be helped."
The young man stooped for an instant over the girl,
and then turned fiercely round upon his father, who had
reeled against the wall, and was gazing on the group
with drunken stupidity.
" Listen to me, father," he said, in a tone that made
the drunkard's flesh creep. "My brother's blood, and
mine, is 011 your head : I never had kind look, or word,
or care, from you, and, alive or dead, I never will for-
give you. Die when you will, or how, I will be with
you. I speak as a dead man now, and I warn you,
father, that as surely as you must one day stand before
THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH.
827
your Maker, so surely shall your children be there, hand
in hand, to cry for judgment against you." He raised
his manacled hands in a threatening attitude, fixed his
eyes on his shrinking parent, and slowly left the room ;
and neither father nor sister ever beheld him more, on
this side of the grave.
When the dim and misty light of a winter's morning
penetrated into the narrow court, and struggled through
the begrimed window of the wretched room, Warden
awoke from his heavy sleep, and found himself alone.
He rose, and looked round him ; the old flock mattress
on the floor was undisturbed ; everything was just as he
remembered to have seen it last: and there were no
signs of any one, save himself, having occupied the room
during the night. He inquired of the other lodgers, and
of the neighbors ; but his daughter had not been seen or
heard of. He rambled through the streets, and scruti-
nized each wretched face among the crowds that thronged
them, with anxious eyes. But his search was fruitless,
and he returned to hi6 garret when night came on, deso-
late and weary.
For many days he occupied himself in the same man-
ner, but no trace of his daughter did he meet with, and
no word of her reached his ears. At length he gave up
the pursuit as hopeless. He had long thought of the
probability of her leaving him, and endeavoring to gain
her bread in quiet, elsewhere. She had left him at last
to starve alone. He ground his teeth and cursed her!
He begged his bread from door to door. Every half-
oenny. he could wring from the pity or credulity of those
to whom he addressed himself, was spent in the old way.
A year passed over his head ; the roof of a jail was the
only one that had sheltered him for many months. He
328
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
3lept under archways, and in brickfields — anywhere,
where there was some warmth or shelter from the cold
and rain. But in the last stage of poverty, disease, and
houseless want, he was a drunkard still.
At last, one bitter night, he sunk down on a door-step
faint and ill. The premature decay of vice and profligacy
had worn him to the bone. His cheeks were hollow and
livid; his eyes were sunken, and their sight was dim.
His legs trembled beneath his weight, and a cold shiver
ran through every limb.
And now the long-forgotten scenes of a misspent life
crowded thick and fast upon him. He thought of the
time when he had a home— a happy, cheerful home —
and of those who peopled it, and flocked about him then,
until the forms of his elder children seemed to rise from
the grave, and stand about him — so plain, so clear, and
so distinct they were, that he could touch and feel them.
Looks that he had long forgotten were fixed upon him
once more; voices long since hushed in death sounded in
his ears like the music of village bells. But it was only
for an instant. The rain beat heavily upon him; and
cold and hunger were gnawing at his heart again.
He rose, and dragged his feeble limbs a few paces
further. The street was silent and empty ; the few pas-
sengers who passed by, at that late hour, hurried quickly
on, and his tremulous voice was lost in the violence of
the storm. Again that heavy chill struck through his
frame, and his blood seemed to stagnate beneath it.
He coiled himself up in a projecting doorway, and tried
to sleep.
But sleep had fled from his dull and glazed eyes.
His mind wandered strangely, but he was awake, and
conscious. The well-known shout of drunken mirth
THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH. 329
founded in his ear, the glass was at his lips, the board
was covered with choice rich food — they were before
him ; he could see them all, he had but to reach out his
hand, and take them — and, though the illusion was
reality itself, he knew that he was sitting alone in the
deserted street, watching the rain-drops as they pattered
on the stones; that death was coming upon him by inches
— and that there were none to care for or help him.
Suddenly he started up, in the extremity of terror.
He had heard his own voice shouting in the night air,
he knew not what, or why. Hark ! A groan ! — an-
other! His senses were leaving him : half-formed and
incoherent words burst from his lips ; and his hands
sought to tear and lacerate his flesh. He was going
mad, and he shrieked for help till his voice failed him.
He raised his head, and looked up the long dismal
street. He recollected that outcasts like himself, con-
demned to wander day and night in those dreadful
streets, had sometimes gone distracted with their own
loneliness. He remembered to have heard many years
before that a homeless wretch had once been found in a
solitary corner, sharpening a rusty knife to plunge into
his own heart, preferring death to that endless, weary,
wandering to and fro. In an instant his resolve was
taken, his limbs received new life ; he ran quickly from
the spot, and paused not for breath until he reached the
river-side.
He crept softly down the steep stone stairs that lead
from the commencement of Waterloo Bridge, down to
the water's level. He crouched into a corner, and held
his breath, as the patrol passed. Never did prisoner's
heart throb with the hope of liberty and life half so ea-
geily as did that of the wretched man at the prospect of
330
SKETCHES BY BOZ.
death. The watch passed close to him, but he remained
unobserved; and after waiting till the sound of footsteps
had died away in the distance, he cautiously descended,
and stood beneath the gloomy arch that forms the land-
ing-place from the river.
The tide was in, and the water flowed at his feet.
The rain had ceased, the wind was lulled, and all was,
for the moment, still and quiet — so quiet, that the
slightest sound on the opposite bank, even the rippling
of the water against the barges that were moored there,
was distinctly audible to his ear. The stream stole lan-
guidly and sluggishly on. Strange and fantastic forms
rose to the surface, and beckoned him to approach ;
dark gleaming eyes peered from the water, and seemed
to mock his hesitation, while hollow murmurs from be-
hind urged him onwards. He retreated a few paces,
took a short run, desperate leap, and plunged into the
river.
Not five seconds had passed when he' rose to the
water's surface — but what a change had taken place in
that short time, in all his thoughts and feelings ! Life
— life — in any form, poverty, misery, starvation — any-
thing but death. He fought and struggled with the water
that closed over his head, and screamed in agonies of ter-
ror. The curse of his own son rang in his ears. The
shore — but one foot of dry ground — he could almost
touch the step. One hand's breadth nearer, and he was
aved — but the tide bore him onward, under the dark
arches of the bridge, and he sank to the bottom.
Again he rose, and struggled for life. For one instant
.— for one brief instant — the buildings on the river's
banks, the lights on the bridge through which the cur-
rent had borne him, the black water, and the fast-flying
THE DRUNKARD S DEATH.
881
dlouds, were distinctly visible — once more he sank, and
once again he rose. Bright flames of fire shot up from
earth to heaven, and reeled before his eyes, while the
water thundered in his ears, and stunned him with its
furious roar.
A week afterwards the body was washed ashore, some
miles down the river, a swollen and disfigured mass. Un-
recognized and unpitied, it was borne to the grave; and
there it has long since mouldered away!
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