Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty

by Charles Dickens

  Chapter 37

  To surround anything, however monstrous or ridiculous, with an air ofmystery, is to invest it with a secret charm, and power of attractionwhich to the crowd is irresistible. False priests, false prophets, falsedoctors, false patriots, false prodigies of every kind, veiling theirproceedings in mystery, have always addressed themselves at an immenseadvantage to the popular credulity, and have been, perhaps, moreindebted to that resource in gaining and keeping for a time the upperhand of Truth and Common Sense, than to any half-dozen items in thewhole catalogue of imposture. Curiosity is, and has been from thecreation of the world, a master-passion. To awaken it, to gratify itby slight degrees, and yet leave something always in suspense, is toestablish the surest hold that can be had, in wrong, on the unthinkingportion of mankind.

  If a man had stood on London Bridge, calling till he was hoarse, uponthe passers-by, to join with Lord George Gordon, although for an objectwhich no man understood, and which in that very incident had a charm ofits own,--the probability is, that he might have influenced a score ofpeople in a month. If all zealous Protestants had been publicly urgedto join an association for the avowed purpose of singing a hymn or twooccasionally, and hearing some indifferent speeches made, and ultimatelyof petitioning Parliament not to pass an act for abolishing thepenal laws against Roman Catholic priests, the penalty of perpetualimprisonment denounced against those who educated children in thatpersuasion, and the disqualification of all members of the Romish churchto inherit real property in the United Kingdom by right of purchase ordescent,--matters so far removed from the business and bosoms of themass, might perhaps have called together a hundred people. But whenvague rumours got abroad, that in this Protestant association a secretpower was mustering against the government for undefined and mightypurposes; when the air was filled with whispers of a confederacyamong the Popish powers to degrade and enslave England, establish aninquisition in London, and turn the pens of Smithfield market intostakes and cauldrons; when terrors and alarms which no man understoodwere perpetually broached, both in and out of Parliament, by oneenthusiast who did not understand himself, and bygone bugbears which hadlain quietly in their graves for centuries, were raised again to hauntthe ignorant and credulous; when all this was done, as it were, in thedark, and secret invitations to join the Great Protestant Association indefence of religion, life, and liberty, were dropped in the public ways,thrust under the house-doors, tossed in at windows, and pressed intothe hands of those who trod the streets by night; when they glaredfrom every wall, and shone on every post and pillar, so that stocks andstones appeared infected with the common fear, urging all men to jointogether blindfold in resistance of they knew not what, they knew notwhy;--then the mania spread indeed, and the body, still increasing everyday, grew forty thousand strong.

  So said, at least, in this month of March, 1780, Lord George Gordon, theAssociation's president. Whether it was the fact or otherwise, few menknew 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 disorderedbrain. He was accustomed to talk largely about numbers ofmen--stimulated, as it was inferred, by certain successful disturbances,arising out of the same subject, which had occurred in Scotland in theprevious year; was looked upon as a cracked-brained member of the lowerhouse, who attacked all parties and sided with none, and was very littleregarded. It was known that there was discontent abroad--there alwaysis; he had been accustomed to address the people by placard, speech,and pamphlet, upon other questions; nothing had come, in England, of hispast exertions, and nothing was apprehended from his present. Just ashe has come upon the reader, he had come, from time to time, upon thepublic, and been forgotten in a day; as suddenly as he appears in thesepages, after a blank of five long years, did he and his proceedingsbegin to force themselves, about this period, upon the notice ofthousands of people, who had mingled in active life during the wholeinterval, and who, without being deaf or blind to passing events, hadscarcely ever thought of him before.

  'My lord,' said Gashford in his ear, as he drew the curtains of his bedbetimes; 'my lord!'

  'Yes--who's that? What is it?'

  'The clock has struck nine,' returned the secretary, with meekly foldedhands. 'You have slept well? I hope you have slept well? If my prayersare heard, you are refreshed indeed.'

  'To say the truth, I have slept so soundly,' said Lord George, rubbinghis eyes and looking round the room, 'that I don't remember quite--whatplace is this?'

  'My lord!' cried Gashford, with a smile.

  'Oh!' returned his superior. 'Yes. You're not a Jew then?'

  'A Jew!' exclaimed the pious secretary, recoiling.

  'I dreamed that we were Jews, Gashford. You and I--both of us--Jews withlong beards.'

  'Heaven forbid, my lord! We might as well be Papists.'

  'I suppose we might,' returned the other, very quickly. 'Eh? You reallythink so, Gashford?'

  'Surely I do,' the secretary cried, with looks of great surprise.

  'Humph!' he muttered. 'Yes, that seems reasonable.'

  'I hope my lord--' the secretary began.

  'Hope!' he echoed, interrupting him. 'Why do you say, you hope? There'sno harm in thinking of such things.'

  'Not in dreams,' returned the Secretary.

  'In dreams! No, nor waking either.'

  --'"Called, and chosen, and faithful,"' said Gashford, taking upLord George's watch which lay upon a chair, and seeming to read theinscription on the seal, abstractedly.

  It was the slightest action possible, not obtruded on his notice, andapparently the result of a moment's absence of mind, not worth remark.But as the words were uttered, Lord George, who had been going onimpetuously, stopped short, reddened, and was silent. Apparently quiteunconscious of this change in his demeanour, the wily Secretary steppeda little apart, under pretence of pulling up the window-blind, andreturning when the other had had time to recover, said:

  'The holy cause goes bravely on, my lord. I was not idle, even lastnight. I dropped two of the handbills before I went to bed, and both aregone this morning. Nobody in the house has mentioned the circumstanceof finding them, though I have been downstairs full half-an-hour. One ortwo recruits will be their first fruit, I predict; and who shall say howmany more, with Heaven's blessing on your inspired exertions!'

  'It was a famous device in the beginning,' replied Lord George; 'anexcellent device, and did good service in Scotland. It was quite worthyof you. You remind me not to be a sluggard, Gashford, when the vineyardis menaced with destruction, and may be trodden down by Papist feet. Letthe horses be saddled in half-an-hour. We must be up and doing!'

  He said this with a heightened colour, 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 bedroomdoor. 'He may come to that before he dies. It's like enough. Well! Aftera time, and provided I lost nothing by it, I don't see why that religionshouldn't suit me as well as any other. There are rich men among theJews; shaving is very troublesome;--yes, it would suit me well enough.For the present, though, we must be Christian to the core. Our propheticmotto will suit all creeds in their turn, that's a comfort.' Reflectingon this source of consolation, he reached the sitting-room, and rang thebell for breakfast.

  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 dispatched. The secretary, however, moredevoted to the good things of this world, or more intent on sustaininghis strength and spirits for the sake of the Protestant cause, ateand drank to the last minute, and required indeed some three or fourreminders from John Grueby, before he could resolve to tear himself awayfrom Mr Willet's plentiful providing.

  At length he came downstairs, wiping his greasy mouth, and having paidJohn Willet's bill, climbed into his saddle. Lord G
eorge, who had beenwalking up and down before the house talking to himself with earnestgestures, mounted his horse; and returning old John Willet's statelybow, as well as the parting salutation of a dozen idlers whom the rumourof a live lord being about to leave the Maypole had gathered round theporch, 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 wasconfirmed this morning, and increased a hundredfold. Sitting boltupright upon his bony steed, with his long, straight hair, danglingabout his face and fluttering in the wind; his limbs all angular andrigid, his elbows stuck out on either side ungracefully, and his wholeframe jogged and shaken at every motion of his horse's feet; a moregrotesque or more ungainly figure can hardly be conceived. In lieu ofwhip, he carried in his hand a great gold-headed cane, as large as anyfootman carries in these days, and his various modes of holding thisunwieldy weapon--now upright before his face like the sabre of ahorse-soldier, now over his shoulder like a musket, now betweenhis finger and thumb, but always in some uncouth and awkwardfashion--contributed in no small degree to the absurdity of hisappearance. Stiff, lank, and solemn, dressed in an unusual manner,and ostentatiously exhibiting--whether by design or accident--all hispeculiarities of carriage, gesture, and conduct, all the qualities,natural and artificial, in which he differed from other men; he mighthave moved the sternest looker-on to laughter, and fully provoked thesmiles and whispered jests which greeted his departure from the Maypoleinn.

  Quite unconscious, however, of the effect he produced, he trotted onbeside his secretary, talking to himself nearly all the way, until theycame within a mile or two of London, when now and then some passengerwent by who knew him by sight, and pointed him out to some one else, andperhaps stood looking after him, or cried in jest or earnest as it mightbe, 'Hurrah Geordie! No Popery!' At which he would gravely pull off hishat, and bow. When they reached the town and rode along the streets,these notices became more frequent; some laughed, some hissed, someturned their heads and smiled, some wondered who he was, some ran alongthe pavement by his side and cheered. When this happened in a crush ofcarts and chairs and coaches, he would make a dead stop, and pullingoff his hat, cry, 'Gentlemen, No Popery!' to which the gentlemen wouldrespond with lusty voices, and with three times three; and then, on hewould go again with a score or so of the raggedest, following at hishorse's heels, and shouting till their throats were parched.

  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 theirshrivelled hands, and raised a weazen, piping, shrill 'Hurrah, mylord.' Others waved their hands or handkerchiefs, or shook their fansor parasols, or threw up windows and called in haste to those within,to come and see. All these marks of popular esteem, he received withprofound gravity and respect; bowing very low, and so frequently thathis hat was more off his head than on; and looking up at the houses ashe passed along, with the air of one who was making a public entry, andyet was not puffed up or proud.

  So they rode (to the deep and unspeakable disgust of John Grueby) thewhole length of Whitechapel, Leadenhall Street, and Cheapside, and intoSt Paul's Churchyard. Arriving close to the cathedral, he halted; spoketo Gashford; and looking upward at its lofty dome, shook his head, asthough he said, 'The Church in Danger!' Then to be sure, the bystandersstretched their throats indeed; and he went on again with mightyacclamations from the mob, and lower bows than ever.

  So along the Strand, up Swallow Street, into the Oxford Road, and thenceto his house in Welbeck Street, near Cavendish Square, whither he wasattended by a few dozen idlers; of whom he took leave on the steps withthis brief parting, 'Gentlemen, No Popery. Good day. God bless you.'This being rather a shorter address than they expected, was receivedwith some displeasure, and cries of 'A speech! a speech!' which mighthave been complied with, but that John Grueby, making a mad charge uponthem with all three horses, on his way to the stables, caused them todisperse into the adjoining fields, where they presently fell topitch and toss, chuck-farthing, odd or even, dog-fighting, and otherProtestant recreations.

  In the afternoon Lord George came forth again, dressed in a black velvetcoat, and trousers and waistcoat of the Gordon plaid, all of the sameQuaker cut; and in this costume, which made him look a dozen times morestrange and singular than before, went down on foot to Westminster.Gashford, meanwhile, bestirred himself in business matters; with whichhe was still engaged when, shortly after dusk, John Grueby entered andannounced a visitor.

  'Let him come in,' said Gashford.

  'Here! come in!' growled John to somebody without; 'You're a Protestant,an'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 remark he gave the visitor admission, retired, andshut the door.

  The man who now confronted Gashford, was a squat, thickset personage,with a low, retreating forehead, a coarse shock head of hair, and eyesso small and near together, that his broken nose alone seemed toprevent their meeting and fusing into one of the usual size. A dingyhandkerchief twisted like a cord about his neck, left its great veinsexposed to view, and they were swollen and starting, as though withgulping down strong passions, malice, and ill-will. His dress was ofthreadbare velveteen--a faded, rusty, whitened black, like the ashesof a pipe or a coal fire after a day's extinction; discoloured with thesoils of many a stale debauch, and reeking yet with pot-house odours. Inlieu of buckles at his knees, he wore unequal loops of packthread; andin his grimy hands he held a knotted stick, the knob of which was carvedinto a rough likeness of his own vile face. Such was the visitor whodoffed his three-cornered hat in Gashford's presence, and waited,leering, for his notice.

  'Ah! Dennis!' cried the secretary. 'Sit down.'

  'I see my lord down yonder--' cried the man, with a jerk of his thumbtowards the quarter that he spoke of, 'and he says to me, says my lord,"If you've nothing to do, Dennis, go up to my house and talk with MusterGashford." Of course I'd nothing to do, you know. These an't my workinghours. Ha ha! I was a-taking the air when I see my lord, that's whatI was doing. I takes the air by night, as the howls does, MusterGashford.'

  And sometimes in the day-time, eh?' said the secretary--'when you go outin state, you know.'

  'Ha ha!' roared the fellow, smiting his leg; 'for a gentleman as 'ullsay a pleasant thing in a pleasant way, give me Muster Gashford agin'all London and Westminster! My lord an't a bad 'un at that, but he's afool 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 another 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--orwhat?'

  'Hush!' said the secretary, suffering the faintest smile to play uponhis face. 'Hush! God bless me, Dennis! We associate, you know, forstrictly peaceable and lawful purposes.'

  'I know, bless you,' returned the man, thrusting his tongue into hischeek; '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 intofits of laughter, wiped his eyes with the corner of his neckerchief, andcried, 'Muster Gashford agin' all England hollow!'

  'Lord George and I were talking of you last night,' said Gashford, aftera 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 fellow, laying his hat and stick upon thefloor, and slowly beating the palm of one hand with the fingers of theother; 'Ob-serve. I'm a constitutional officer that works for my livi
ng,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 anyman, woman, or child, does anything which goes again a certain numberof our acts"--how many hanging laws may there be at this present time,Muster Gashford? Fifty?'

  'I don't exactly know how many,' replied Gashford, leaning back in hischair and yawning; 'a great number though.'

  'Well, say fifty. Parliament says, "If any man, woman, or child, doesanything again any one of them fifty acts, that man, woman, or child,shall be worked off by Dennis." George the Third steps in when theynumber very strong at the end of a sessions, and says, "These are toomany for Dennis. I'll have half for myself and Dennis shall have halffor himself;" and sometimes he throws me in one over that I don'texpect, as he did three year ago, when I got Mary Jones, a young womanof nineteen who come up to Tyburn with a infant at her breast, and wasworked off for taking a piece of cloth off the counter of a shop inLudgate 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, inconsequence of her husband having been pressed three weeks previous, andshe being left to beg, with two young children--as was proved upon thetrial. Ha ha!--Well! That being the law and the practice of England, isthe glory of England, an't it, Muster Gashford?'

  'Certainly,' said the secretary.

  'And in times to come,' pursued the hangman, 'if our grandsons shouldthink of their grandfathers' times, and find these things altered,they'll say, "Those were days indeed, and we've been going down hillever since." Won't they, Muster Gashford?'

  'I have no doubt they will,' said the secretary.

  'Well then, look here,' said the hangman. 'If these Papists gets intopower, and begins to boil and roast instead of hang, what becomes of mywork! If they touch my work that's a part of so many laws, what becomesof the laws in general, what becomes of the religion, what becomes ofthe country!--Did you ever go to church, Muster Gashford?'

  'Ever!' repeated the secretary with some indignation; 'of course.'

  'Well,' said the ruffian, 'I've been once--twice, counting the time Iwas christened--and when I heard the Parliament prayed for, and thoughthow many new hanging laws they made every sessions, I considered that Iwas prayed for. Now mind, Muster Gashford,' said the fellow, takingup his stick and shaking it with a ferocious air, 'I mustn't havemy Protestant work touched, nor this here Protestant state of thingsaltered in no degree, if I can help it; I mustn't have no Papistsinterfering with me, unless they come to be worked off in course of law;I mustn't have no biling, no roasting, no frying--nothing but hanging.My lord may well call me an earnest fellow. In support of the greatProtestant principle of having plenty of that, I'll,' and here he beathis club upon the ground, 'burn, fight, kill--do anything you bid me, sothat it's bold and devilish--though the end of it was, that I got hungmyself.--There, Muster Gashford!'

  He appropriately followed up this frequent prostitution of a noble wordto the vilest purposes, by pouring out in a kind of ecstasy at leasta score of most tremendous oaths; then wiped his heated face upon hisneckerchief, 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 his heavy brows, that for aught the hangman saw ofthem, he might have been stone blind. He remained smiling in silence fora short time longer, and then said, slowly and distinctly:

  'You are indeed an earnest fellow, Dennis--a most valuable fellow--thestaunchest 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 bethough.'

  'Ay, ay, we shall see, Muster Gashford, we shall see. You won't have tocomplain of me,' returned the other, shaking his head.

  'I am sure I shall not,' said the secretary in the same mild tone, andwith the same emphasis. 'We shall have, we think, about next month, orMay, when this Papist relief bill comes before the house, to convene ourwhole body for the first time. My lord has thoughts of our walkingin procession through the streets--just as an innocent display ofstrength--and accompanying our petition down to the door of the House ofCommons.'

  'The sooner the better,' said Dennis, with another oath.

  'We shall have to draw up in divisions, our numbers being so large; and,I believe I may venture to say,' resumed Gashford, affecting not tohear the interruption, 'though I have no direct instructions to thateffect--that Lord George has thought of you as an excellent leader forone 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 secretary, still smiling, andstill managing his eyes so that he could watch him closely, and reallynot be seen in turn, 'obedient to orders, and perfectly temperate. Youwould lead your party into no danger, I am certain.'

  'I'd lead them, Muster Gashford,'--the hangman was beginning in areckless way, when Gashford started forward, laid his finger on hislips, and feigned to write, just as the door was opened by John Grueby.

  'Oh!' said John, looking in; 'here's another Protestant.'

  'Some other room, John,' cried Gashford in his blandest voice. 'I amengaged just now.'

  But John had brought this new visitor to the door, and he walkedin unbidden, as the words were uttered; giving to view the form andfeatures, rough attire, and reckless air, of Hugh.