Chapter 51
Promising as these outrages were to Gashford's view, and much likebusiness as they looked, they extended that night no farther. Thesoldiers were again called out, again they took half-a-dozen prisoners,and again the crowd dispersed after a short and bloodless scuffle. Hotand drunken though they were, they had not yet broken all bounds andset all law and government at defiance. Something of their habitualdeference to the authority erected by society for its own preservationyet remained among them, and had its majesty been vindicated in time,the secretary would have had to digest a bitter disappointment.
By midnight, the streets were clear and quiet, and, save that therestood in two parts of the town a heap of nodding walls and pile ofrubbish, where there had been at sunset a rich and handsome building,everything wore its usual aspect. Even the Catholic gentry andtradesmen, of whom there were many resident in different parts of theCity and its suburbs, had no fear for their lives or property, andbut little indignation for the wrong they had already sustained inthe plunder and destruction of their temples of worship. An honestconfidence in the government under whose protection they had lived formany years, and a well-founded reliance on the good feeling and rightthinking of the great mass of the community, with whom, notwithstandingtheir religious differences, they were every day in habits ofconfidential, affectionate, and friendly intercourse, reassured them,even under the excesses that had been committed; and convinced them thatthey who were Protestants in anything but the name, were no more tobe considered as abettors of these disgraceful occurrences, than theythemselves were chargeable with the uses of the block, the rack, thegibbet, and the stake in cruel Mary's reign.
The clock was on the stroke of one, when Gabriel Varden, with hislady and Miss Miggs, sat waiting in the little parlour. This fact; thetoppling wicks of the dull, wasted candles; the silence that prevailed;and, above all, the nightcaps of both maid and matron, were sufficientevidence that they had been prepared for bed some time ago, and had somereason for sitting up so far beyond their usual hour.
If any other corroborative testimony had been required, it would havebeen abundantly furnished in the actions of Miss Miggs, who, havingarrived at that restless state and sensitive condition of the nervoussystem which are the result of long watching, did, by a constant rubbingand tweaking of her nose, a perpetual change of position (arising fromthe sudden growth of imaginary knots and knobs in her chair), a frequentfriction of her eyebrows, the incessant recurrence of a small cough, asmall groan, a gasp, a sigh, a sniff, a spasmodic start, and by otherdemonstrations of that nature, so file down and rasp, as it were, thepatience of the locksmith, that after looking at her in silence for sometime, he at last broke out into this apostrophe:--
'Miggs, my good girl, go to bed--do go to bed. You're really worsethan the dripping of a hundred water-butts outside the window, or thescratching of as many mice behind the wainscot. I can't bear it. Do goto bed, Miggs. To oblige me--do.'
'You haven't got nothing to untie, sir,' returned Miss Miggs, 'andtherefore your requests does not surprise me. But missis has--andwhile you sit up, mim'--she added, turning to the locksmith's wife,'I couldn't, no, not if twenty times the quantity of cold water wasaperiently running down my back at this moment, go to bed with a quietspirit.'
Having spoken these words, Miss Miggs made divers efforts to rub hershoulders in an impossible place, and shivered from head to foot;thereby giving the beholders to understand that the imaginary cascadewas still in full flow, but that a sense of duty upheld her under thatand all other sufferings, and nerved her to endurance.
Mrs Varden being too sleepy to speak, and Miss Miggs having, as thephrase is, said her say, the locksmith had nothing for it but to sighand be as quiet as he could.
But to be quiet with such a basilisk before him was impossible. If helooked another way, it was worse to feel that she was rubbing hercheek, or twitching her ear, or winking her eye, or making all kinds ofextraordinary shapes with her nose, than to see her do it. If she wasfor a moment free from any of these complaints, it was only because ofher foot being asleep, or of her arm having got the fidgets, or of herleg being doubled up with the cramp, or of some other horrible disorderwhich racked her whole frame. If she did enjoy a moment's ease, thenwith her eyes shut and her mouth wide open, she would be seen to sitvery stiff and upright in her chair; then to nod a little way forward,and stop with a jerk; then to nod a little farther forward, and stopwith another jerk; then to recover herself; then to come forwardagain--lower--lower--lower--by very slow degrees, until, just as itseemed impossible that she could preserve her balance for anotherinstant, and the locksmith was about to call out in an agony, to saveher from dashing down upon her forehead and fracturing her skull, thenall of a sudden and without the smallest notice, she would come uprightand rigid again with her eyes open, and in her countenance an expressionof defiance, sleepy but yet most obstinate, which plainly said, 'I'venever once closed 'em since I looked at you last, and I'll take my oathof it!'
At length, after the clock had struck two, there was a sound at thestreet door, as if somebody had fallen against the knocker by accident.Miss Miggs immediately jumping up and clapping her hands, cried with adrowsy mingling of the sacred and profane, 'Ally Looyer, mim! there'sSimmuns's knock!'
'Who's there?' said Gabriel.
'Me!' cried the well-known voice of Mr Tappertit. Gabriel opened thedoor, and gave him admission.
He did not cut a very insinuating figure, for a man of his staturesuffers in a crowd; and having been active in yesterday morning's work,his dress was literally crushed from head to foot: his hat being beatenout of all shape, and his shoes trodden down at heel like slippers. Hiscoat fluttered in strips about him, the buckles were torn away both fromhis knees and feet, half his neckerchief was gone, and the bosom ofhis shirt was rent to tatters. Yet notwithstanding all these personaldisadvantages; despite his being very weak from heat and fatigue; andso begrimed with mud and dust that he might have been in a case, foranything of the real texture (either of his skin or apparel) that theeye could discern; he stalked haughtily into the parlour, and throwinghimself into a chair, and endeavouring to thrust his hands into thepockets of his small-clothes, which were turned inside out and displayedupon his legs, like tassels, surveyed the household with a gloomydignity.
'Simon,' said the locksmith gravely, 'how comes it that you return homeat this time of night, and in this condition? Give me an assurance thatyou have not been among the rioters, and I am satisfied.'
'Sir,' replied Mr Tappertit, with a contemptuous look, 'I wonder at YOURassurance in making such demands.'
'You have been drinking,' said the locksmith.
'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 haveunintentionally--unintentionally, sir,--struck upon the truth.'
'Martha,' said the locksmith, turning to his wife, and shaking his headsorrowfully, while a smile at the absurd figure beside him still playedupon his open face, 'I trust it may turn out that this poor lad is notthe victim of the knaves and fools we have so often had words about, andwho have done so much harm to-day. If he has been at Warwick Street orDuke Street to-night--'
'He has been at neither, sir,' cried Mr Tappertit in a loud voice, whichhe suddenly dropped into a whisper as he repeated, with eyes fixed uponthe locksmith, 'he has been at neither.'
'I am glad of it, with all my heart,' said the locksmith in a serioustone; 'for if he had been, and it could be proved against him, Martha,your Great Association would have been to him the cart that draws mento the gallows and leaves them hanging in the air. It would, as sure aswe'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 thatnight, to offer any retort, or to have recourse to her usual matrimonialpolicy. Miss Miggs wrung her hands, and wept.
'He was not at Duke Street,
or at Warwick Street, G. Varden,' saidSimon, sternly; 'but he WAS at Westminster. Perhaps, sir, he kicked acounty member, perhaps, sir, he tapped a lord--you may stare, sir, Irepeat it--blood flowed from noses, and perhaps he tapped a lord. Whoknows? This,' he added, putting his hand into his waistcoat-pocket,and taking out a large tooth, at the sight of which both Miggs and MrsVarden screamed, 'this was a bishop's. Beware, G. Varden!'
'Now, I would rather,' said the locksmith hastily, 'have paid fivehundred pounds, than had this come to pass. You idiot, do you know whatperil you stand in?'
'I know it, sir,' replied his journeyman, 'and it is my glory. I wasthere, everybody saw me there. I was conspicuous, and prominent. I willabide the consequences.'
The locksmith, really disturbed and agitated, paced to and fro insilence--glancing at his former 'prentice every now and then--and atlength stopping before him, said:
'Get to bed, and sleep for a couple of hours that you may wake penitent,and with some of your senses about you. Be sorry for what you havedone, and we will try to save you. If I call him by five o'clock,' saidVarden, turning hurriedly to his wife, and he washes himself cleanand changes his dress, he may get to the Tower Stairs, and away by theGravesend tide-boat, before any search is made for him. From there hecan easily get on to Canterbury, where your cousin will give himwork till this storm has blown over. I am not sure that I do right inscreening him from the punishment he deserves, but he has lived in thishouse, man and boy, for a dozen years, and I should be sorry if for thisone day's work he made a miserable end. Lock the front-door, Miggs, andshow no light towards the street when you go upstairs. Quick, Simon! Getto bed!'
'And do you suppose, sir,' retorted Mr Tappertit, with a thicknessand slowness of speech which contrasted forcibly with the rapidity andearnestness of his kind-hearted master--'and do you suppose, sir, that Iam base and mean enough to accept your servile proposition?--Miscreant!'
'Whatever you please, Sim, but get to bed. Every minute is ofconsequence. 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 his chair away to showthat he needed no assistance, answered, swaying himself to and fro, andmanaging his head as if it had no connection whatever with his body:
'You spoke of Miggs, sir--Miggs may be smothered!'
'Oh Simmun!' ejaculated that young lady in a faint voice. 'Oh mim! Ohsir! Oh goodness gracious, what a turn he has give me!'
'This family may ALL be smothered, sir,' returned Mr Tappertit, afterglancing at her with a smile of ineffable disdain, 'excepting Mrs V.I have come here, sir, for her sake, this night. Mrs Varden, take thispiece of paper. It's a protection, ma'am. You may need it.'
With these words he held out at arm's length, a dirty, crumpled scrap ofwriting. The locksmith took it from him, opened it, and read as follows:
'All good friends to our cause, I hope will be particular, and do noinjury to the property of any true Protestant. I am well assured thatthe proprietor of this house is a staunch and worthy friend to thecause.
GEORGE GORDON.'
'What's this!' said the locksmith, with an altered face.
'Something that'll do you good service, young feller,' replied hisjourneyman, 'as you'll find. Keep that safe, and where you can lay yourhand upon it in an instant. And chalk "No Popery" on your door to-morrownight, and for a week to come--that's all.'
'This is a genuine document,' said the locksmith, 'I know, for I haveseen the hand before. What threat does it imply? What devil is abroad?'
'A fiery devil,' retorted Sim; 'a flaming, furious devil. Don't you putyourself in its way, or you're done for, my buck. Be warned in time, G.Varden. Farewell!'
But here the two women threw themselves in his way--especially MissMiggs, who fell upon him with such fervour that she pinned him againstthe wall--and conjured him in moving words not to go forth till he wassober; to listen to reason; to think of it; to take some rest, and thendetermine.
'I tell you,' said Mr Tappertit, 'that my mind is made up. My bleedingcountry calls me and I go! Miggs, if you don't get out of the way, I'llpinch you.'
Miss Miggs, still clinging to the rebel, screamed once vociferously--butwhether in the distraction of her mind, or because of his havingexecuted 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 inan altered state of society, and mean to provide for you comfortably inlife--there! Will that satisfy you?'
'Oh Simmun!' cried Miss Miggs. 'Oh my blessed Simmun! Oh mim! what aremy feelings at this conflicting moment!'
Of a rather turbulent description, it would seem; for her nightcaphad been knocked off in the scuffle, and she was on her knees uponthe floor, making a strange revelation of blue and yellow curl-papers,straggling locks of hair, tags of staylaces, and strings of it'simpossible to say what; panting for breath, clasping her hands, turningher eyes upwards, shedding abundance of tears, and exhibiting variousother symptoms of the acutest mental suffering.
'I leave,' said Simon, turning to his master, with an utter disregard ofMiggs's maidenly affliction, 'a box of things upstairs. Do what youlike with 'em. I don't want 'em. I'm never coming back here, any more.Provide yourself, sir, with a journeyman; I'm my country's journeyman;henceforward that's MY line of business.'
'Be what you like in two hours' time, but now go up to bed,' returnedthe locksmith, planting himself in the doorway. 'Do you hear me? Go tobed!'
'I hear you, and defy you, Varden,' rejoined Simon Tappertit. 'Thisnight, sir, I have been in the country, planning an expedition whichshall fill your bell-hanging soul with wonder and dismay. The plotdemands 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 outinto the workshop together, plying their hands and feet so briskly thatthey looked like half-a-dozen, while Miggs and Mrs Varden screamed fortwelve.
It would have been easy for Varden to knock his old 'prentice down,and bind him hand and foot; but as he was loth to hurt him in his thendefenceless state, he contented himself with parrying his blows when hecould, taking them in perfect good part when he could not, and keepingbetween him and the door, until a favourable opportunity should presentitself for forcing him to retreat up-stairs, and shutting him up in hisown room. But, in the goodness of his heart, he calculated too much uponhis adversary's weakness, and forgot that drunken men who have lostthe power of walking steadily, can often run. Watching his time, SimonTappertit made a cunning show of falling back, staggered unexpectedlyforward, brushed past him, opened the door (he knew the trick of thatlock well), and darted down the street like a mad dog. The locksmithpaused for a moment in the excess of his astonishment, and then gavechase.
It was an excellent season for a run, for at that silent hour thestreets were deserted, the air was cool, and the flying figure beforehim distinctly visible at a great distance, as it sped away, with a longgaunt shadow following at its heels. But the short-winded locksmith hadno chance against a man of Sim's youth and spare figure, though the dayhad been when he could have run him down in no time. The space betweenthem rapidly increased, and as the rays of the rising sun streamed uponSimon in the act of turning a distant corner, Gabriel Varden was fainto give up, and sit down on a doorstep to fetch his breath. Simonmeanwhile, without once stopping, fled at the same degree of swiftnessto The Boot, where, as he well knew, some of his company were lying,and at which respectable hostelry--for he had already acquired thedistinction of being in great peril of the law--a friendly watch hadbeen expecting him all night, and was even now on the look-out for hiscoming.
'Go thy ways, Sim, go thy ways,' said the locksmith, as soon as he couldspeak. 'I have done my best for thee, poor lad, and would have
savedthee, but the rope is round thy neck, I fear.'
So saying, and shaking his head in a very sorrowful and disconsolatemanner, he turned back, and soon re-entered his own house, where MrsVarden and the faithful Miggs had been anxiously expecting his return.
Now Mrs Varden (and by consequence Miss Miggs likewise) was impressedwith a secret misgiving that she had done wrong; that she had, to theutmost of her small means, aided and abetted the growth of disturbances,the end of which it was impossible to foresee; that she had led remotelyto the scene which had just passed; and that the locksmith's time fortriumph and reproach had now arrived indeed. And so strongly did MrsVarden feel this, and so crestfallen was she in consequence, that whileher husband was pursuing their lost journeyman, she secreted under herchair the little red-brick dwelling-house with the yellow roof, lest itshould furnish new occasion for reference to the painful theme; and nowhid the same still more, with the skirts of her dress.
But it happened that the locksmith had been thinking of this veryarticle on his way home, and that, coming into the room and not seeingit, he at once demanded where it was.
Mrs Varden had no resource but to produce it, which she did with manytears, and broken protestations that if she could have known--
'Yes, yes,' said Varden, 'of course--I know that. I don't mean toreproach you, my dear. But recollect from this time that all good thingsperverted to evil purposes, are worse than those which are naturallybad. A thoroughly wicked woman, is wicked indeed. When religion goeswrong, she is very wrong, for the same reason. Let us say no more aboutit, my dear.'
So he dropped the red-brick dwelling-house on the floor, and setting hisheel upon it, crushed it into pieces. The halfpence, and sixpences,and other voluntary contributions, rolled about in all directions, butnobody offered to touch them, or to take them up.
'That,' said the locksmith, 'is easily disposed of, and I would toHeaven that everything growing out of the same society could be settledas easily.'
'It happens very fortunately, Varden,' said his wife, with herhandkerchief to her eyes, 'that in case any more disturbances shouldhappen--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 thatpoor misguided young man brought.'
'Ay, to be sure,' said the locksmith, turning quickly round. 'Where isthat piece of paper?'
Mrs Varden stood aghast as he took it from her outstretched band, toreit into fragments, and threw them under the grate.
'Not use it?' she said.
'Use it!' cried the locksmith. No! Let them come and pull the roof aboutour ears; let them burn us out of house and home; I'd neither have theprotection 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 themcome and do their worst. The first man who crosses my doorstep on suchan errand as theirs, had better be a hundred miles away. Let him look toit. 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 weightof gold. Get you to bed, Martha. I shall take down the shutters and goto work.'
'So early!' said his wife.
'Ay,' replied the locksmith cheerily, 'so early. Come when they may,they shall not find us skulking and hiding, as if we feared to take ourportion of the light of day, and left it all to them. So pleasant dreamsto 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 she lay down to rest. Mrs Vardenquite amiably and meekly walked upstairs, followed by Miggs, who,although a good deal subdued, could not refrain from sundry stimulativecoughs and sniffs by the way, or from holding up her hands inastonishment at the daring conduct of master.
Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty Page 51
