Chapter 53
The next day was ushered in by merry peals of bells, and by the firingof the Tower guns; flags were hoisted on many of the church-steeples;the usual demonstrations were made in honour of the anniversary of theKing's birthday; and every man went about his pleasure or business asif the city were in perfect order, and there were no half-smoulderingembers in its secret places, which, on the approach of night, wouldkindle up again and scatter ruin and dismay abroad. The leaders of theriot, rendered still more daring by the success of last night and bythe booty they had acquired, kept steadily together, and only thought ofimplicating the mass of their followers so deeply that no hope of pardonor reward might tempt them to betray their more notorious confederatesinto the hands of justice.
Indeed, the sense of having gone too far to be forgiven, held the timidtogether no less than the bold. Many who would readily have pointed outthe foremost rioters and given evidence against them, felt that escapeby that means was hopeless, when their every act had been observed byscores of people who had taken no part in the disturbances; who hadsuffered in their persons, peace, or property, by the outrages of themob; who would be most willing witnesses; and whom the government would,no doubt, prefer to any King's evidence that might be offered. Many ofthis class had deserted their usual occupations on the Saturday morning;some had been seen by their employers active in the tumult; othersknew they must be suspected, and that they would be discharged if theyreturned; others had been desperate from the beginning, and comfortedthemselves with the homely proverb, that, being hanged at all, theymight as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. They all hoped andbelieved, in a greater or less degree, that the government they seemedto have paralysed, would, in its terror, come to terms with them in theend, and suffer them to make their own conditions. The least sanguineamong them reasoned with himself that, at the worst, they were too manyto be all punished, and that he had as good a chance of escape as anyother man. The great mass never reasoned or thought at all, but werestimulated by their own headlong passions, by poverty, by ignorance, bythe love of mischief, and the hope of plunder.
One other circumstance is worthy of remark; and that is, that from themoment of their first outbreak at Westminster, every symptom of orderor preconcerted arrangement among them vanished. When they dividedinto parties and ran to different quarters of the town, it was on thespontaneous suggestion of the moment. Each party swelled as it wentalong, like rivers as they roll towards the sea; new leaders sprangup as they were wanted, disappeared when the necessity was over, andreappeared at the next crisis. Each tumult took shape and form from thecircumstances of the moment; sober workmen, going home from their day'slabour, were seen to cast down their baskets of tools and become riotersin an instant; mere boys on errands did the like. In a word, a moralplague ran through the city. The noise, and hurry, and excitement, hadfor hundreds and hundreds an attraction they had no firmness to resist.The contagion spread like a dread fever: an infectious madness, as yetnot near its height, seized on new victims every hour, and society beganto tremble at their ravings.
It was between two and three o'clock in the afternoon when Gashfordlooked into the lair described in the last chapter, and seeing onlyBarnaby and Dennis there, inquired for Hugh.
He was out, Barnaby told him; had gone out more than an hour ago; andhad not yet returned.
'Dennis!' said the smiling secretary, in his smoothest voice, as he satdown cross-legged on a barrel, 'Dennis!'
The hangman struggled into a sitting posture directly, and with his eyeswide open, looked towards him.
'How do you do, Dennis?' said Gashford, nodding. 'I hope you havesuffered no inconvenience from your late exertions, Dennis?'
'I always will say of you, Muster Gashford,' returned the hangman,staring at him, 'that that 'ere quiet way of yours might almost wake adead man. It is,' he added, with a muttered oath--still staring at himin a thoughtful manner--'so awful sly!'
'So distinct, eh Dennis?'
'Distinct!' he answered, scratching his head, and keeping his eyes uponthe secretary's face; 'I seem to hear it, Muster Gashford, in my werybones.'
'I am very glad your sense of hearing is so sharp, and that I succeedin making myself so intelligible,' said Gashford, in his unvarying, eventone. 'Where is your friend?'
Mr Dennis looked round as in expectation of beholding him asleep uponhis bed of straw; then remembering he had seen him go out, replied:
'I can't say where he is, Muster Gashford, I expected him back aforenow. I hope it isn't time that we was busy, Muster Gashford?'
'Nay,' said the secretary, 'who should know that as well as you? Howcan I tell you, Dennis? You are perfect master of your own actions, youknow, and accountable to nobody--except sometimes to the law, eh?'
Dennis, who was very much baffled by the cool matter-of-course manner ofthis reply, recovered his self-possession on his professional pursuitsbeing referred to, and pointing towards Barnaby, shook his head andfrowned.
'Hush!' cried Barnaby.
'Ah! Do hush about that, Muster Gashford,' said the hangman in a lowvoice, '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 hisfoot! 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!' hecried, joyfully welcoming Hugh with both hands, and then patting himfondly 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 safetoo! I am glad to see him back again, old Hugh!'
'I'm a Turk if he don't give me a warmer welcome always than any manof sense,' said Hugh, shaking hands with him with a kind of ferociousfriendship, 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 anything for the good cause, and the right, andto help the kind, mild, pale-faced gentleman--the lord they used soill--eh, Hugh?'
'Ay!' returned his friend, dropping his hand, and looking at Gashfordfor an instant with a changed expression before he spoke to him. 'Goodday, master!'
'And good day to you,' replied the secretary, nursing his leg.
'And many good days--whole years of them, I hope. You are heated.'
'So would you have been, master,' said Hugh, wiping his face, 'if you'dbeen 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 exclamationof surprise. 'Dear me! Come; then I AM the first to make you acquaintedwith your distinguished position, after all. Do you see the King's Armsa-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.'
'I 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,' said Gashford, 'datedto-day, and offering a reward of five hundred pounds--five hundredpounds is a great deal of money, and a large temptation to somepeople--to any one who will discover the person or persons most activein 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 foldingup the document again. 'Your friend, I might have guessed--indeed I didguess--was sure to tell you.'
'My friend!' stammered Hugh, with an unsuccessful effort to appearsurprised. 'What friend?'
'Tut tut--do you suppose I don't know where you have been?' retortedGashford, rubbing his hands, and beating the back of one on the palm ofthe other, and looking at him with a cunning eye. 'How dull you thinkme! Shall I say his name?'
'No,' said Hugh, with a hasty g
lance towards Dennis.
'You have also heard from him, no doubt,' resumed the secretary, after amoment's pause, 'that the rioters who have been taken (poor fellows) arecommitted for trial, and that some very active witnesses have had thetemerity to appear against them. Among others--' and here he clenchedhis teeth, as if he would suppress by force some violent words that roseupon his tongue; and spoke very slowly. 'Among others, a gentlemanwho saw the work going on in Warwick Street; a Catholic gentleman; oneHaredale.'
Hugh would have prevented his uttering the word, but it was out already.Hearing the name, Barnaby turned swiftly round.
'Duty, duty, bold Barnaby!' cried Hugh, assuming his wildest and mostrapid manner, and thrusting into his hand his staff and flag which leantagainst the wall. 'Mount guard without loss of time, for we are off uponour expedition. Up, Dennis, and get ready! Take care that no one turnsthe 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 littlecaptain 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 despatch. The look ofmingled astonishment and anger which had appeared in his face when heturned towards them, faded from it as the words passed from his memory,like breath from a polished mirror; and grasping the weapon which Hughforced upon him, he proudly took his station at the door, beyond theirhearing.
'You might have spoiled our plans, master,' said Hugh. 'YOU, too, of allmen!'
'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 youknow, but with his head--as you or any man,' said Hugh. 'Dennis, it'stime we were going; they're waiting for us; I came to tell you. Reachme my stick and belt. Here! Lend a hand, master. Fling this over myshoulder, 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 a-foot.'
'There is, is there?' said Gashford. He said it with such a provokingassumption of ignorance, that Hugh, looking over his shoulder andangrily down upon him, replied:
'Is there! You know there is! Who knows better than you, master, thatthe 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, anymore?'
'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 rejoinedsoftly, 'I tell you this--he's as good and quick information abouteverything as--' here he paused and looked round, as if to make surethat the person in question was not within hearing, 'as Old Nickhimself. Have you done that, master? How slow you are!'
'It's quite fast now,' said Gashford, rising. 'I say--you didn't findthat your friend disapproved of to-day's little expedition? Ha ha ha!It is fortunate it jumps so well with the witness policy; for, onceplanned, 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 caution and his malice;then putting himself between the two men, and laying a hand upon the armof each, said, in a cramped whisper:
'Do not, my good friends--I am sure you will not--forget our talk onenight--in your house, Dennis--about this person. No mercy, no quarter,no two beams of his house to be left standing where the builder placedthem! Fire, the saying goes, is a good servant, but a bad master. Makeit _his_ master; he deserves no better. But I am sure you will be firm, Iam sure you will be very resolute, I am sure you will remember that hethirsts for your lives, and those of all your brave companions. Ifyou ever acted like staunch fellows, you will do so to-day. Won't you,Dennis--won't you, Hugh?'
The two looked at him, and at each other; then bursting into a roar oflaughter, brandished their staves above their heads, shook hands, andhurried out.
When they had been gone a little time, Gashford followed. They were yetin sight, and hastening to that part of the adjacent fields inwhich their fellows had already mustered; Hugh was looking back, andflourishing his hat to Barnaby, who, delighted with his trust, repliedin the same way, and then resumed his pacing up and down before thestable-door, where his feet had worn a path already. And when Gashfordhimself was far distant, and looked back for the last time, he was stillwalking to and fro, with the same measured tread; the most devoted andthe blithest champion that ever maintained a post, and felt his heartlifted up with a brave sense of duty, and determination to defend it tothe last.
Smiling at the simplicity of the poor idiot, Gashford betook himself toWelbeck Street by a different path from that which he knew the rioterswould take, and sitting down behind a curtain in one of the upperwindows of Lord George Gordon's house, waited impatiently for theircoming. They were so long, that although he knew it had been settledthey should come that way, he had a misgiving they must have changedtheir plans and taken some other route. But at length the roar of voiceswas heard in the neighbouring fields, and soon afterwards they camethronging past, in a great body.
However, they were not all, nor nearly all, in one body, but were, as hesoon found, divided into four parties, each of which stopped before thehouse to give three cheers, and then went on; the leaders crying out inwhat direction they were going, and calling on the spectators to jointhem. The first detachment, carrying, by way of banners, some relicsof the havoc they had made in Moorfields, proclaimed that they were ontheir way to Chelsea, whence they would return in the same order, tomake of the spoil they bore, a great bonfire, near at hand. The secondgave out that they were bound for Wapping, to destroy a chapel; thethird, that their place of destination was East Smithfield, and theirobject the same. All this was done in broad, bright, summer day. Gaycarriages and chairs stopped to let them pass, or turned back to avoidthem; people on foot stood aside in doorways, or perhaps knocked andbegged permission to stand at a window, or in the hall, until therioters had passed: but nobody interfered with them; and when they hadgone by, everything went on as usual.
There still remained the fourth body, and for that the secretary lookedwith a most intense eagerness. At last it came up. It was numerous, andcomposed of picked men; for as he gazed down among them, he recognisedmany upturned faces which he knew well--those of Simon Tappertit, Hugh,and Dennis in the front, of course. They halted and cheered, as theothers had done; but when they moved again, they did not, like them,proclaim what design they had. Hugh merely raised his hat upon thebludgeon he carried, and glancing at a spectator on the opposite side ofthe way, was gone.
Gashford followed the direction of his glance instinctively, andsaw, standing on the pavement, and wearing the blue cockade, Sir JohnChester. He held his hat an inch or two above his head, to propitiatethe mob; and, resting gracefully on his cane, smiling pleasantly, anddisplaying his dress and person to the very best advantage, looked onin the most tranquil state imaginable. For all that, and quick anddexterous as he was, Gashford had seen him recognise Hugh with the airof a patron. He had no longer any eyes for the crowd, but fixed his keenregards upon Sir John.
He stood in the same place and posture until the last man in theconcourse had turned the corner of the street; then very deliberatelytook 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 carriagestopped, and a lady's hand let down the glass. Sir John's hat was offagain immediately. After a minute's conversation at the carriage-window,in which it was apparent that he was vastly entertaining on the subjectof the mob, he stepped lightly in, and was drive
n away.
The secretary smiled, but he had other thoughts to dwell upon, andsoon dismissed the topic. Dinner was brought him, but he sent it downuntasted; and, in restless pacings up and down the room, and constantglances at the clock, and many futile efforts to sit down and read, orgo to sleep, or look out of the window, consumed four weary hours. Whenthe dial told him thus much time had crept away, he stole upstairs tothe top of the house, and coming out upon the roof sat down, with hisface towards the east.
Heedless of the fresh air that blew upon his heated brow, of thepleasant meadows from which he turned, of the piles of roofs andchimneys upon which he looked, of the smoke and rising mist he vainlysought to pierce, of the shrill cries of children at their eveningsports, the distant hum and turmoil of the town, the cheerful countrybreath 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 twinkledin 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 muttered restlessly.'Dog! where is the redness in the sky, you promised me!'
Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty Page 53
