Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty

by Charles Dickens

  Chapter 57

  Barnaby, armed as we have seen, continued to pace up and down beforethe stable-door; glad to be alone again, and heartily rejoicing in theunaccustomed silence and tranquillity. After the whirl of noise and riotin which the last two days had been passed, the pleasures of solitudeand peace were enhanced a thousandfold. He felt quite happy; and as heleaned upon his staff and mused, a bright smile overspread his face, andnone but cheerful visions floated into his brain.

  Had he no thoughts of her, whose sole delight he was, and whom he hadunconsciously plunged in such bitter sorrow and such deep affliction?Oh, yes. She was at the heart of all his cheerful hopes and proudreflections. It was she whom all this honour and distinction were togladden; the joy and profit were for her. What delight it gave herto 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 shelived so happily, and heard with so much pride (he pictured to himselfher look when they told her) that he was in such high esteem: bold amongthe boldest, and trusted before them all! And when these frays wereover, and the good lord had conquered his enemies, and they were all atpeace again, and he and she were rich, what happiness they would havein talking of these troubled times when he was a great soldier: and whenthey sat alone together in the tranquil twilight, and she had no longerreason to be anxious for the morrow, what pleasure would he have in thereflection that this was his doing--his--poor foolish Barnaby's; andin patting her on the cheek, and saying with a merry laugh, 'Am I sillynow, mother--am I silly now?'

  With a lighter heart and step, and eyes the brighter for the happy tearthat dimmed them for a moment, Barnaby resumed his walk; and singinggaily to himself, kept guard upon his quiet post.

  His comrade Grip, the partner of his watch, though fond of basking inthe sunshine, preferred to-day to walk about the stable; having a greatdeal to do in the way of scattering the straw, hiding under it suchsmall articles as had been casually left about, and haunting Hugh'sbed, to which he seemed to have taken a particular attachment. SometimesBarnaby looked in and called him, and then he came hopping out; buthe merely did this as a concession to his master's weakness, and soonreturned again to his own grave pursuits: peering into the straw withhis bill, and rapidly covering up the place, as if, Midas-like, he werewhispering secrets to the earth and burying them; constantly busyinghimself upon the sly; and affecting, whenever Barnaby came past, tolook up in the clouds and have nothing whatever on his mind: in short,conducting himself, in many respects, in a more than usually thoughtful,deep, and mysterious manner.

  As the day crept on, Barnaby, who had no directions forbidding him toeat and drink upon his post, but had been, on the contrary, suppliedwith a bottle of beer and a basket of provisions, determined to breakhis fast, which he had not done since morning. To this end, he sat downon the ground before the door, and putting his staff across his knees incase of alarm or surprise, summoned Grip to dinner.

  This call, the bird obeyed with great alacrity; crying, as he sidledup to his master, 'I'm a devil, I'm a Polly, I'm a kettle, I'm aProtestant, No Popery!' Having learnt this latter sentiment from thegentry among whom he had lived of late, he delivered it with uncommonemphasis.

  'Well said, Grip!' cried his master, as he fed him with the daintiestbits. '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!' criedthe raven.

  'Gordon for ever, Grip!' cried Barnaby.

  The raven, placing his head upon the ground, looked at his mastersideways, as though he would have said, 'Say that again!' Perfectlyunderstanding his desire, Barnaby repeated the phrase a great manytimes. The bird listened with profound attention; sometimes repeatingthe popular cry in a low voice, as if to compare the two, and try if itwould at all help him to this new accomplishment; sometimes flappinghis wings, or barking; and sometimes in a kind of desperation drawing amultitude of corks, with extraordinary viciousness.

  Barnaby was so intent upon his favourite, that he was not at firstaware of the approach of two persons on horseback, who were riding at afoot-pace, and coming straight towards his post. When he perceived them,however, which he did when they were within some fifty yards of him, hejumped hastily up, and ordering Grip within doors, stood with both handson his staff, waiting until he should know whether they were friends orfoes.

  He had hardly done so, when he observed that those who advanced were agentleman and his servant; almost at the same moment he recognised LordGeorge Gordon, before whom he stood uncovered, with his eyes turnedtowards the ground.

  'Good day!' said Lord George, not reining in his horse until he wasclose beside him. 'Well!'

  'All quiet, sir, all safe!' cried Barnaby. 'The rest are away--they wentby 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 everythingsecure till they come back. I'll do it, sir, for your sake. You're agood gentleman; a kind gentleman--ay, you are. There are many againstyou, but we'll be a match for them, never fear!'

  'What's that?' said Lord George--pointing to the raven who was peepingout of the stable-door--but still looking thoughtfully, and in someperplexity, it seemed, at Barnaby.

  'Why, don't you know!' retorted Barnaby, with a wondering laugh. 'Notknow what HE is! A bird, to be sure. My bird--my friend--Grip.'

  'A devil, a kettle, a Grip, a Polly, a Protestant, no Popery!' cried theraven.

  'Though, indeed,' added Barnaby, laying his hand upon the neck of LordGeorge's horse, and speaking softly: 'you had good reason to ask me whathe is, for sometimes it puzzles me--and I am used to him--to thinkhe's only a bird. He's my brother, Grip is--always with me--alwaystalking--always merry--eh, Grip?'

  The raven answered by an affectionate croak, and hopping on his master'sarm, which he held downward for that purpose, submitted with an air ofperfect indifference to be fondled, and turned his restless, curiouseye, now upon Lord George, and now upon his man.

  Lord George, biting his nails in a discomfited manner, regarded Barnabyfor some time in silence; then beckoning 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 lowvoice.

  'Twice, my lord,' said John. 'I saw him in the crowd last night andSaturday.'

  '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 master, speaking in apeevish tone. 'Don't use that word too freely. Why do you think himmad?'

  '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,' returned his angry master,glancing at himself; 'and happens to differ from other men in hiscarriage and manner, and to advocate a great cause which the corrupt andirreligious desert, he is to be accounted mad, is he?'

  'Stark, staring, raving, roaring mad, my lord,' returned the unmovedJohn.

  'Do you say this to my face?' cried his master, turning sharply uponhim.

  'To any man, my lord, who asks me,' answered John.

  'Mr Gashford, I find, was right,' said Lord George; 'I thought himprejudiced, though I ought to have known a man like him better than tohave 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, as Imight have felt convinced he was. I have done wrong to retain you inmy service. It is a tacit insult to him as my choice and confidentialfriend to do so, remembering the cause you sided with,
on the day he wasmaligned at Westminster. You will leave me to-night--nay, as soon as wereach home. The sooner the better.'

  'If it comes to that, I say so too, my lord. Let Mr Gashford have hiswill. As to my being a spy, my lord, you know me better than to believeit, I am sure. I don't know much about causes. My cause is the cause ofone man against two hundred; and I hope it always will be.'

  'You have said quite enough,' returned Lord George, motioning him to goback. 'I desire to hear no more.'

  'If you'll let me have another word, my lord,' returned John Grueby,'I'd give this silly fellow a caution not to stay here by himself. Theproclamation is in a good many hands already, and it's well known thathe was concerned in the business it relates to. He had better get to aplace 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 thinksyou may be afraid to remain upon your post, and are kept here perhapsagainst your will. What do you say?'

  'I think, young man,' said John, in explanation, 'that the soldiers mayturn out and take you; and that if they do, you will certainly be hungby the neck till you're dead--dead--dead. And I think you had better gofrom here, as fast as you can. That's what I think.'

  'He's a coward, Grip, a coward!' cried Barnaby, putting the raven on theground, and shouldering his staff. 'Let them come! Gordon for ever! Letthem come!'

  'Ay!' said Lord George, 'let them! Let us see who will venture to attacka power like ours; the solemn league of a whole people. THIS a madman!You have said well, very well. I am proud to be the leader of such menas you.'

  Barnaby's heart swelled within his bosom as he heard these words. He tookLord 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 extendedto the animal he rode; then unfurling 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 him exultingly Farewell!--thencantered off at a brisk pace; after glancing angrily round to see thathis servant followed. Honest John set spurs to his horse and rode afterhis master, but not before he had again warned Barnaby to retreat,with many significant gestures, which indeed he continued to make, andBarnaby to resist, until the windings of the road concealed them fromeach other's view.

  Left to himself again with a still higher sense of the importance ofhis post, and stimulated to enthusiasm by the special notice andencouragement of his leader, Barnaby walked to and fro in a delicioustrance rather than as a waking man. The sunshine which prevailed aroundwas in his mind. He had but one desire ungratified. If she could onlysee him now!

  The day wore on; its heat was gently giving place to the cool ofevening; a light wind sprung up, fanning his long hair, and makingthe banner rustle pleasantly above his head. There was a freedom andfreshness in the sound and in the time, which chimed exactly with hismood. He was happier than ever.

  He was leaning on his staff looking towards the declining sun, andreflecting with a smile that he stood sentinel at that moment overburied gold, when two or three figures appeared in the distance, makingtowards the house at a rapid pace, and motioning with their hands asthough they urged its inmates to retreat from some approaching danger.As they drew nearer, they became more earnest in their gestures; andthey were no sooner within hearing, than the foremost among them criedthat the soldiers were coming up.

  At these words, Barnaby furled his flag, and tied it round the pole. Hisheart beat high while he did so, but he had no more fear or thought ofretreating than the pole itself. The friendly stragglers hurried pasthim, after giving him notice of his danger, and quickly passed into thehouse, where the utmost confusion immediately prevailed. As those withinhastily closed the windows and the doors, they urged him by looks andsigns to fly without loss of time, and called to him many times to doso; but he only shook his head indignantly in answer, and stood thefirmer on his post. Finding that he was not to be persuaded, they tookcare of themselves; and leaving the place with only one old woman in it,speedily withdrew.

  As yet there had been no symptom of the news having any betterfoundation than in the fears of those who brought it, but The Boot hadnot been deserted five minutes, when there appeared, coming across thefields, a body of men who, it was easy to see, by the glitter of theirarms and ornaments in the sun, and by their orderly and regular mode ofadvancing--for they came on as one man--were soldiers. In a very littletime, Barnaby knew that they were a strong detachment of the FootGuards, having along with them two gentlemen in private clothes, and asmall party of Horse; the latter brought up the rear, and were not innumber more than six or eight.

  They advanced steadily; neither quickening their pace as they camenearer, 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 anddisconcerting in it to one accustomed to the noise and tumult of anundisciplined mob. For all that, he stood his ground not a whit the lessresolutely, and looked on undismayed.

  Presently, they marched into the yard, and halted. Thecommanding-officer despatched a messenger to the horsemen, one of whomcame riding back. Some words passed between them, and they glanced atBarnaby; who well remembered the man he had unhorsed at Westminster, andsaw him now before his eyes. The man being speedily dismissed, saluted,and rode back to his comrades, who were drawn up apart at a shortdistance.

  The officer then gave the word to prime and load. The heavy ringing ofthe musket-stocks upon the ground, and the sharp and rapid rattling ofthe ramrods in their barrels, were a kind of relief to Barnaby, deadlythough he knew the purport of such sounds to be. When this was done,other commands were given, and the soldiers instantaneously formed insingle file all round the house and stables; completely encircling themin every part, at a distance, perhaps, of some half-dozen yards; atleast that seemed in Barnaby's eyes to be about the space left betweenhimself and those who confronted him. The horsemen remained drawn up bythemselves as before.

  The two gentlemen in private clothes who had kept aloof, now rodeforward, one on either side the officer. The proclamation having beenproduced and read by one of them, the officer called on Barnaby tosurrender.

  He made no answer, but stepping within the door, before which he hadkept guard, held his pole crosswise to protect it. In the midst of aprofound silence, he was again called upon to yield.

  Still he offered no reply. Indeed he had enough to do, to run his eyebackward and forward along the half-dozen men who immediately frontedhim, and settle hurriedly within himself at which of them he wouldstrike first, when they pressed on him. He caught the eye of one in thecentre, 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 himto deliver himself up.

  Next moment he was back in the stable, dealing blows about him like amadman. 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 andhurry of the struggle. Another blow--another! Down, mastered, wounded inthe breast by a heavy blow from the butt-end of a gun (he saw the weaponin the act of falling)--breathless--and a prisoner.

  An exclamation of surprise from the officer recalled him, in somedegree, to himself. He looked round. Grip, after working in secret allthe afternoon, and with redoubled vigour while everybody's attention wasdistracted, had plucked away the straw from Hugh's bed, and turned upthe loose ground with his iron bill. The hole had been recklessly filledto the brim, and was merely sprinkled with earth. Golden cups, spoons,candlesticks, coined guineas--all the riches were revealed.

  They brought spades and a sack; dug up everything that was hidden there;and carried away more than two men could lift. They handcuffed himand bound his arms, searched him, and took away all he had. Nobodyquestioned or reproached him, or seemed to have much
curiosity abouthim. The two men he had stunned, were carried off by their companions inthe same business-like way in which everything else was done. Finally,he was left under a guard of four soldiers with fixed bayonets, whilethe officer directed in person the search of the house and the otherbuildings connected with it.

  This was soon completed. The soldiers formed again in the yard; he wasmarched out, with his guard about him; and ordered to fall in, where aspace 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 upas they passed quickly along, could see people running to the windows alittle too late, and throwing up the sashes to look after him. Sometimeshe met a staring face beyond the heads about him, or under the arms ofhis conductors, or peering down upon him from a waggon-top or coach-box;but this was all he saw, being surrounded by so many men. The verynoises of the streets seemed muffled and subdued; and the air came staleand hot upon him, like the sickly breath of an oven.

  Tramp, tramp. Tramp, tramp. Heads erect, shoulders square, every manstepping in exact time--all so orderly and regular--nobody looking athim--nobody seeming conscious of his presence,--he could hardly believehe was a Prisoner. But at the word, though only thought, not spoken, hefelt the handcuffs galling his wrists, the cord pressing his arms tohis sides: the loaded guns levelled at his head; and those cold, bright,sharp, shining points turned towards him: the mere looking down atwhich, now that he was bound and helpless, made the warm current of hislife run cold.