Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty

by Charles Dickens

  Chapter 35

  When John Willet saw that the horsemen wheeled smartly round, and drewup three abreast in the narrow road, waiting for him and his man to jointhem, it occurred to him with unusual precipitation that they must behighwaymen; and had Hugh been armed with a blunderbuss, in place of hisstout cudgel, he would certainly have ordered him to fire it off at aventure, and would, while the word of command was obeyed, have consultedhis own personal safety in immediate flight. Under the circumstances ofdisadvantage, however, in which he and his guard were placed, he deemedit prudent to adopt a different style of generalship, and thereforewhispered his attendant to address them in the most peaceable andcourteous terms. By way of acting up to the spirit and letter of thisinstruction, Hugh stepped forward, and flourishing his staff before thevery eyes of the rider nearest to him, demanded roughly what he and hisfellows meant by so nearly galloping over them, and why they scoured theking's highway at that late hour of night.

  The man whom he addressed was beginning an angry reply in the samestrain, when he was checked by the horseman in the centre, who,interposing with an air of authority, inquired in a somewhat loud butnot harsh or unpleasant voice:

  'Pray, is this the London road?'

  '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 companion, I am sure, will answer me more civilly. How say you,friend?'

  'I say it IS the London road, sir,' answered John. 'And I wish,' headded in a subdued voice, as he turned to Hugh, 'that you was in anyother road, you vagabond. Are you tired of your life, sir, that you goa-trying to provoke three great neck-or-nothing chaps, that could keepon running over us, back'ards and for'ards, till we was dead, and thentake our bodies up behind 'em, and drown us ten miles off?'

  'How far is it to London?' inquired the same speaker.

  'Why, from here, sir,' answered John, persuasively, 'it's thirteen veryeasy mile.'

  The adjective was thrown in, as an inducement to the travellers toride away with all speed; but instead of having the desired effect, itelicited from the same person, the remark, 'Thirteen miles! That's along distance!' which was followed by a short pause of indecision.

  'Pray,' said the gentleman, 'are there any inns hereabouts?' At the word'inns,' John plucked up his spirit in a surprising manner; his fearsrolled off like smoke; all the landlord stirred within him.

  'There are no inns,' rejoined Mr Willet, with a strong emphasis on theplural number; 'but there's a Inn--one Inn--the Maypole Inn. That's aInn indeed. You won't see the like of that Inn often.'

  'You keep it, perhaps?' said the horseman, smiling.

  'I do, sir,' replied John, greatly wondering how he had found this out.

  'And how far is the Maypole from here?'

  'About a mile'--John was going to add that it was the easiest mile inall the world, when the third rider, who had hitherto kept a little inthe rear, suddenly interposed:

  'And have you one excellent bed, landlord? Hem! A bed that you canrecommend--a bed that you are sure is well aired--a bed that has beenslept in by some perfectly respectable and unexceptionable person?'

  'We don't take in no tagrag and bobtail at our house, sir,' answeredJohn. '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 ofone.'

  'No, no, my lord; you are too good, you are too kind; but your life isof far too much importance to the nation in these portentous times, tobe placed upon a level with one so useless and so poor as mine. A greatcause, my lord, a mighty cause, depends on you. You are its leader andits champion, its advanced guard and its van. It is the cause of ouraltars and our homes, our country and our faith. Let ME sleep on achair--the carpet--anywhere. No one will repine if I take cold or fever.Let John Grueby pass the night beneath the open sky--no one willrepine for HIM. But forty thousand men of this our island in the wave(exclusive of women and children) rivet their eyes and thoughts on LordGeorge Gordon; and every day, from the rising up of the sun to the goingdown of the same, pray for his health and vigour. My lord,' said thespeaker, rising in his stirrups, 'it is a glorious cause, and must notbe forgotten. My lord, it is a mighty cause, and must not be endangered.My lord, it is a holy cause, and must not be deserted.'

  'It IS a holy cause,' exclaimed his lordship, lifting up his hat withgreat solemnity. 'Amen.'

  'John Grueby,' said the long-winded gentleman, in a tone of mildreproof, 'his lordship said Amen.'

  'I heard my lord, sir,' said the man, sitting like a statue on hishorse.

  'And do not YOU say Amen, likewise?'

  To which John Grueby made no reply at all, but sat looking straightbefore him.

  'You surprise me, Grueby,' said the gentleman. 'At a crisis like thepresent, when Queen Elizabeth, that maiden monarch, weeps withinher tomb, and Bloody Mary, with a brow of gloom and shadow, stalkstriumphant--'

  'Oh, sir,' cied the man, gruffly, 'where's the use of talking of BloodyMary, under such circumstances as the present, when my lord's wetthrough, and tired with hard riding? Let's either go on to London, sir,or put up at once; or that unfort'nate Bloody Mary will have more toanswer for--and she's done a deal more harm in her grave than she everdid in her lifetime, I believe.'

  By this time Mr Willet, who had never heard so many words spokentogether at one time, or delivered with such volubility and emphasis asby the long-winded gentleman; and whose brain, being wholly unable tosustain or compass them, had quite given itself up for lost; recoveredso far as to observe that there was ample accommodation at the Maypolefor all the party: good beds; neat wines; excellent entertainmentfor man and beast; private rooms for large and small parties; dinnersdressed upon the shortest notice; choice stabling, and a lock-upcoach-house; and, in short, to run over such recommendatory scraps oflanguage as were painted up on various portions of the building, andwhich in the course of some forty years he had learnt to repeat withtolerable correctness. He was considering whether it was at all possibleto insert any novel sentences to the same purpose, when the gentlemanwho had spoken first, turning to him of the long wind, exclaimed, 'Whatsay you, Gashford? Shall we tarry at this house he speaks of, or pressforward? You shall decide.'

  'I would submit, my lord, then,' returned the person he appealed to,in a silky tone, 'that your health and spirits--so important, underProvidence, to our great cause, our pure and truthful cause'--here hislordship pulled off his hat again, though it was raining hard--'requirerefreshment and repose.'

  'Go on before, landlord, and show the way,' said Lord George Gordon; 'wewill follow at a footpace.'

  'If you'll give me leave, my lord,' said John Grueby, in a low voice,'I'll change my proper place, and ride before you. The looks of thelandlord's friend are not over honest, and it may be as well to becautious with him.'

  'John Grueby is quite right,' interposed Mr Gashford, falling backhastily. '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 thefellow, blow his brains out.'

  John made no answer, but looking straight before him, as his customseemed to be when the secretary spoke, bade Hugh push on, and followedclose behind him. Then came his lordship, with Mr Willet at his bridlerein; and, last of all, his lordship's secretary--for that, it seemed,was Gashford's office.

  Hugh strode briskly on, often looking back at the servant, whose horsewas close upon his heels, and glancing with a leer at his holstercase of pistols, by which he seemed to set great store. He was asquare-built, strong-made, bull-necked fellow, of the true Englishbreed; and as Hugh measured him with his eye, he measured Hugh,regarding him meanwhile with a look of bluff disdain. He was much olderthan the Maypole man, being to all appearance five-and-forty; but wasone of those self-possessed, hard-headed, imperturbable fellows, who, ifthey are ever beaten at fisticuffs
, or other kind of warfare, never knowit, and go on coolly till they win.

  'If I led you wrong now,' said Hugh, tauntingly, 'you'd--ha haha!--you'd shoot me through the head, I suppose.'

  John Grueby took no more notice of this remark than if he had been deafand Hugh dumb; but kept riding on quite comfortably, with his eyes fixedon the horizon.

  'Did you ever try a fall with a man when you were young, master?' saidHugh. 'Can you make any play at single-stick?'

  John Grueby looked at him sideways with the same contented air, butdeigned not a word in answer.

  '--Like this?' said Hugh, giving his cudgel one of those skilfulflourishes, in which the rustic of that time delighted. 'Whoop!'

  '--Or that,' returned John Grueby, beating down his guard with his whip,and striking him on the head with its butt end. 'Yes, I played a littleonce. You wear your hair too long; I should have cracked your crown ifit had been a little shorter.'

  It was a pretty smart, loud-sounding rap, as it was, and evidentlyastonished Hugh; who, for the moment, seemed disposed to drag his newacquaintance from his saddle. But his face betokening neither malice,triumph, rage, nor any lingering idea that he had given him offence;his eyes gazing steadily in the old direction, and his manner being ascareless and composed as if he had merely brushed away a fly; Hugh wasso puzzled, and so disposed to look upon him as a customer of almostsupernatural 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 totheir servant, who, under the guidance of Hugh, repaired to the stables.Right glad to escape from the inclemency of the night, they followedMr Willet into the common room, and stood warming themselves and dryingtheir clothes before the cheerful fire, while he busied himself withsuch orders and preparations as his guest's high quality required.

  As he bustled in and out of the room, intent on these arrangements, hehad an opportunity of observing the two travellers, of whom, as yet, heknew nothing but the voice. The lord, the great personage who did theMaypole so much honour, was about the middle height, of a slender make,and sallow complexion, with an aquiline nose, and long hair of a reddishbrown, combed perfectly straight and smooth about his ears, and slightlypowdered, but without the faintest vestige of a curl. He was attired,under his greatcoat, in a full suit of black, quite free from anyornament, and of the most precise and sober cut. The gravity of hisdress, together with a certain lankness of cheek and stiffness ofdeportment, added nearly ten years to his age, but his figure was thatof one not yet past thirty. As he stood musing in the red glow ofthe fire, it was striking to observe his very bright large eye, whichbetrayed a restlessness of thought and purpose, singularly at variancewith the studied composure and sobriety of his mien, and with hisquaint and sad apparel. It had nothing harsh or cruel in its expression;neither had his face, which was thin and mild, and wore an air ofmelancholy; but it was suggestive of an indefinable uneasiness; whichinfected those who looked upon him, and filled them with a kind of pityfor the man: though why it did so, they would have had some trouble toexplain.

  Gashford, the secretary, was taller, angularly made, high-shouldered,bony, and ungraceful. His dress, in imitation of his superior, wasdemure 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 intohis head, and to have dug themselves a cave to hide in. His manner wassmooth and humble, but very sly and slinking. He wore the aspect of aman who was always lying in wait for something that WOULDN'T come topass; but he looked patient--very patient--and fawned like a spanieldog. Even now, while he warmed and rubbed his hands before the blaze,he had the air of one who only presumed to enjoy it in his degree as acommoner; and though he knew his lord was not regarding him, he lookedinto his face from time to time, and with a meek and deferential manner,smiled as if for practice.

  Such were the guests whom old John Willet, with a fixed and leadeneye, surveyed a hundred times, and to whom he now advanced with a statecandlestick in each hand, beseeching them to follow him into a worthierchamber. 'For my lord,' said John--it is odd enough, but certain peopleseem to have as great a pleasure in pronouncing titles as their ownershave in wearing them--'this room, my lord, isn't at all the sort ofplace for your lordship, and I have to beg your lordship's pardon forkeeping you here, my lord, one minute.'

  With this address, John ushered them upstairs into the state apartment,which, like many other things of state, was cold and comfortless. Theirown footsteps, reverberating through the spacious room, struck upontheir hearing with a hollow sound; and its damp and chilly atmospherewas rendered doubly cheerless by contrast with the homely warmth theyhad deserted.

  It was of no use, however, to propose a return to the place they hadquitted, for the preparations went on so briskly that there was no timeto stop them. John, with the tall candlesticks in his hands, bowed themup to the fireplace; Hugh, striding in with a lighted brand and pileof firewood, cast it down upon the hearth, and set it in a blaze; JohnGrueby (who had a great blue cockade in his hat, which he appearedto despise mightily) brought in the portmanteau he had carried on hishorse, and placed it on the floor; and presently all three were busilyengaged in drawing out the screen, laying the cloth, inspecting thebeds, lighting fires in the bedrooms, expediting the supper, and makingeverything as cosy and as snug as might be, on so short a notice. Inless than an hour's time, supper had been served, and ate, and clearedaway; and Lord George and his secretary, with slippered feet, and legsstretched out before the fire, sat over some hot mulled wine together.

  'So ends, my lord,' said Gashford, filling his glass with greatcomplacency, 'the blessed work of a most blessed day.'

  'And of a blessed yesterday,' said his lordship, raising his head.

  'Ah!'--and here the secretary clasped his hands--'a blessed yesterdayindeed! The Protestants of Suffolk are godly men and true. Though othersof 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.'

  'Did I move them, Gashford?' said Lord George.

  'Move them, my lord! Move them! They cried to be led on against thePapists, they vowed a dreadful vengeance on their heads, they roaredlike men possessed--'

  'But not by devils,' said his lord.

  'By devils! my lord! By angels.'

  'Yes--oh surely--by angels, no doubt,' said Lord George, thrusting hishands into his pockets, taking them out again to bite his nails, andlooking 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 bedecidedly irreligious to doubt it--wouldn't it, Gashford? Though therecertainly were,' he added, without waiting for an answer, 'some plaguyill-looking characters among them.'

  'When you warmed,' said the secretary, looking sharply at the other'sdowncast eyes, which brightened slowly as he spoke; 'when you warmedinto that noble outbreak; when you told them that you were never ofthe lukewarm or the timid tribe, and bade them take heed that they wereprepared to follow one who would lead them on, though to the very death;when you spoke of a hundred and twenty thousand men across the Scottishborder who would take their own redress at any time, if it were notconceded; when you cried "Perish the Pope and all his base adherents;the penal laws against them shall never be repealed while Englishmenhave hearts and hands"--and waved your own and touched your sword; andwhen they cried "No Popery!" and you cried "No; not even if we wade inblood," and they threw up their hats and cried "Hurrah! not even if wewade in blood; No Popery! Lord George! Down with the Papists--Vengeanceon their heads:" when this was said and done, and a word from you, mylord, could raise or still the tumult--ah! then I felt what greatnesswas indeed, and thought, When was there ever power like this of LordGeorge Gor
don's!'

  'It's a great power. You're right. It is a great power!' he cried withsparkling eyes. 'But--dear Gashford--did I really say all that?'

  'And how much more!' cried the secretary, looking upwards. 'Ah! how muchmore!'

  'And I told them what you say, about the one hundred and forty thousandmen in Scotland, did I!' he asked with evident delight. 'That was bold.'

  'Our cause is boldness. Truth is always bold.'

  'Certainly. So is religion. She's bold, Gashford?'

  'The true religion is, my lord.'

  'And that's ours,' he rejoined, moving uneasily in his seat, and bitinghis nails as though he would pare them to the quick. 'There can be nodoubt of ours being the true one. You feel as certain of that as I do,Gashford, don't you?'

  'Does my lord ask ME,' whined Gashford, drawing his chair nearer withan injured air, and laying his broad flat hand upon the table; 'ME,'he repeated, bending the dark hollows of his eyes upon him with anunwholesome smile, 'who, stricken by the magic of his eloquence inScotland but a year ago, abjured the errors of the Romish church, andclung to him as one whose timely hand had plucked me from a pit?'

  'True. No--No. I--I didn't mean it,' replied the other, shaking him bythe hand, rising from his seat, and pacing restlessly about the room.'It's a proud thing to lead the people, Gashford,' he added as he made asudden halt.

  'By force of reason too,' returned the pliant secretary.

  'Ay, to be sure. They may cough and jeer, and groan in Parliament, andcall me fool and madman, but which of them can raise this human sea andmake it swell and roar at pleasure? Not one.'

  'Not one,' repeated Gashford.

  'Which of them can say for his honesty, what I can say for mine; whichof them has refused a minister's bribe of one thousand pounds a year, toresign his seat in favour of another? Not one.'

  'Not one,' repeated Gashford again--taking the lion's share of themulled wine between whiles.

  'And as we are honest, true, and in a sacred cause, Gashford,' said LordGeorge with a heightened colour and in a louder voice, as he laid hisfevered hand upon his shoulder, 'and are the only men who regard themass of people out of doors, or are regarded by them, we will upholdthem to the last; and will raise a cry against these un-English Papistswhich shall re-echo through the country, and roll with a noise likethunder. I will be worthy of the motto on my coat of arms, "Called andchosen and faithful."'

  'Called,' said the secretary, 'by Heaven.'

  'I am.'

  'Chosen by the people.'

  'Yes.'

  'Faithful to both.'

  'To the block!'

  It would be difficult to convey an adequate idea of the excited mannerin which he gave these answers to the secretary's promptings; of therapidity of his utterance, or the violence of his tone and gesture; inwhich, struggling through his Puritan's demeanour, was something wildand ungovernable which broke through all restraint. For some minutes hewalked rapidly up and down the room, then stopping suddenly, exclaimed,

  'Gashford--YOU moved them yesterday too. Oh yes! You did.'

  'I shone with a reflected light, my lord,' replied the humble secretary,laying his hand upon his heart. 'I did my best.'

  '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 asusual, if you're not too tired.'

  'Too tired, my lord!--But this is his consideration! Christian from headto foot.' With which soliloquy, the secretary tilted the jug, and lookedvery hard into the mulled wine, to see how much remained.

  John Willet and John Grueby appeared together. The one bearing the greatcandlesticks, and the other the portmanteau, showed the deluded lordinto his chamber; and left the secretary alone, to yawn and shakehimself, and finally to fall asleep before the fire.

  'Now, Mr Gashford sir,' said John Grueby in his ear, after what appearedto him a moment of unconsciousness; 'my lord's abed.'

  'Oh. Very good, John,' was his mild reply. 'Thank you, John. Nobody needsit up. I know my room.'

  'I hope you're not a-going to trouble your head to-night, or my lord'shead neither, with anything more about Bloody Mary,' said John. 'I wishthe blessed old creetur had never been born.'

  'I said you might go to bed, John,' returned the secretary. 'You didn'thear me, I think.'

  'Between Bloody Marys, and blue cockades, and glorious Queen Besses,and no Poperys, and Protestant associations, and making of speeches,'pursued John Grueby, looking, as usual, a long way off, and taking nonotice 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, "Gordonforever!" that I'm ashamed of myself and don't know where to look. Whenwe're indoors, they come a-roaring and screaming about the house like somany devils; and my lord instead of ordering them to be drove away, goesout into the balcony and demeans himself by making speeches to 'em, andcalls 'em "Men of England," and "Fellow-countrymen," as if he was fondof 'em and thanked 'em for coming. I can't make it out, but they're allmixed up somehow or another with that unfort'nate Bloody Mary, and callher name out till they're hoarse. They're all Protestants too--every manand boy among 'em: and Protestants are very fond of spoons, I find, andsilver-plate in general, whenever area-gates is left open accidentally.I wish that was the worst of it, and that no more harm might be to come;but if you don't stop these ugly customers in time, Mr Gashford (and Iknow you; you're the man that blows the fire), you'll find 'em grow alittle bit too strong for you. One of these evenings, when the weathergets warmer and Protestants are thirsty, they'll be pulling Londondown,--and I never heard that Bloody Mary went as far as THAT.'

  Gashford had vanished long ago, and these remarks had been bestowed onempty air. Not at all discomposed by the discovery, John Grueby fixedhis hat on, wrongside foremost that he might be unconscious of theshadow of the obnoxious cockade, and withdrew to bed; shaking his headin a very gloomy and prophetic manner until he reached his chamber.