Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty

by Charles Dickens

  Chapter 66

  Although he had had no rest upon the previous night, and had watchedwith little intermission for some weeks past, sleeping only in the dayby starts and snatches, Mr Haredale, from the dawn of morning untilsunset, sought his niece in every place where he deemed it possible shecould have taken refuge. All day long, nothing, save a draught of water,passed his lips; though he prosecuted his inquiries far and wide, andnever so much as sat down, once.

  In every quarter he could think of; at Chigwell and in London; at thehouses of the tradespeople with whom he dealt, and of the friends heknew; he pursued his search. A prey to the most harrowing anxieties andapprehensions, he went from magistrate to magistrate, and finally to theSecretary of State. The only comfort he received was from this minister,who assured him that the Government, being now driven to the exerciseof the extreme prerogatives of the Crown, were determined to exert them;that a proclamation would probably be out upon the morrow, giving to themilitary, discretionary and unlimited power in the suppression of theriots; that the sympathies of the King, the Administration, and bothHouses of Parliament, and indeed of all good men of every religiouspersuasion, were strongly with the injured Catholics; and that justiceshould be done them at any cost or hazard. He told him, moreover, thatother persons whose houses had been burnt, had for a time lost sight oftheir children or their relatives, but had, in every case, within hisknowledge, succeeded in discovering them; that his complaint should beremembered, and fully stated in the instructions given to the officersin command, and to all the inferior myrmidons of justice; and thateverything that could be done to help him, should be done, with agoodwill and in good faith.

  Grateful for this consolation, feeble as it was in its reference to thepast, and little hope as it afforded him in connection with the subjectof distress which lay nearest to his heart; and really thankful for theinterest the minister expressed, and seemed to feel, in his condition;Mr Haredale withdrew. He found himself, with the night coming on, alonein the streets; and destitute of any place in which to lay his head.

  He entered an hotel near Charing Cross, and ordered some refreshment anda bed. He saw that his faint and worn appearance attracted the attentionof the landlord and his waiters; and thinking that they might supposehim to be penniless, took out his purse, and laid it on the table. Itwas not that, the landlord said, in a faltering voice. If he were oneof those who had suffered by the rioters, he durst not give himentertainment. He had a family of children, and had been twice warned tobe careful in receiving guests. He heartily prayed his forgiveness, butwhat could he do?

  Nothing. No man felt that more sincerely than Mr Haredale. He told theman as much, and left the house.

  Feeling that he might have anticipated this occurrence, after whathe had seen at Chigwell in the morning, where no man dared to touch aspade, though he offered a large reward to all who would come and digamong the ruins of his house, he walked along the Strand; too proudto expose himself to another refusal, and of too generous a spiritto involve in distress or ruin any honest tradesman who might be weakenough to give him shelter. He wandered into one of the streets by theside of the river, and was pacing in a thoughtful manner up anddown, thinking of things that had happened long ago, when he heard aservant-man at an upper window call to another on the opposite side ofthe street, that the mob were setting fire to Newgate.

  To Newgate! where that man was! His failing strength returned, hisenergies came back with tenfold vigour, on the instant. If it werepossible--if they should set the murderer free--was he, after all he hadundergone, to die with the suspicion of having slain his own brother,dimly gathering about him--

  He had no consciousness of going to the jail; but there he stood, beforeit. There was the crowd wedged and pressed together in a dense, dark,moving mass; and there were the flames soaring up into the air. His headturned round and round, lights flashed before his eyes, and he struggledhard with two men.

  'Nay, nay,' said one. 'Be more yourself, my good sir. We attractattention here. Come away. What can you do among so many men?'

  'The gentleman's always for doing something,' said the other, forcinghim along as he spoke. 'I like him for that. I do like him for that.'

  They had by this time got him into a court, hard by the prison. Helooked from one to the other, and as he tried to release himself, feltthat he tottered on his feet. He who had spoken first, was the oldgentleman whom he had seen at the Lord Mayor's. The other was JohnGrueby, who had stood by him so manfully at Westminster.

  'What does this mean?' he asked them faintly. 'How came we together?'

  'On the skirts of the crowd,' returned the distiller; 'but come with us.Pray come with us. You seem to know my friend here?'

  'Surely,' said Mr Haredale, looking in a kind of stupor at John.

  'He'll tell you then,' returned the old gentleman, 'that I am a manto be trusted. He's my servant. He was lately (as you know, I have nodoubt) in Lord George Gordon's service; but he left it, and brought,in pure goodwill to me and others, who are marked by the rioters, suchintelligence as he had picked up, of their designs.'

  --'On one condition, please, sir,' said John, touching his hat. Noevidence against my lord--a misled man--a kind-hearted man, sir. My lordnever intended this.'

  'The condition will be observed, of course,' rejoined the old distiller.'It's a point of honour. But come with us, sir; pray come with us.'

  John Grueby added no entreaties, but he adopted a different kind ofpersuasion, by putting his arm through one of Mr Haredale's, while hismaster took the other, and leading him away with all speed.

  Sensible, from a strange lightness in his head, and a difficulty infixing his thoughts on anything, even to the extent of bearing hiscompanions in his mind for a minute together without looking at them,that his brain was affected by the agitation and suffering through whichhe had passed, and to which he was still a prey, Mr Haredale let themlead him where they would. As they went along, he was conscious ofhaving no command over what he said or thought, and that he had a fearof going mad.

  The distiller lived, as he had told him when they first met, on HolbornHill, where he had great storehouses and drove a large trade. Theyapproached his house by a back entrance, lest they should attract thenotice of the crowd, and went into an upper room which faced towards thestreet; the windows, however, in common with those of every other roomin the house, were boarded up inside, in order that, out of doors, allmight appear quite dark.

  They laid him on a sofa in this chamber, perfectly insensible; but Johnimmediately fetching a surgeon, who took from him a large quantity ofblood, he gradually came to himself. As he was, for the time, too weakto walk, they had no difficulty in persuading him to remain there allnight, and got him to bed without loss of a minute. That done, theygave him cordial and some toast, and presently a pretty strongcomposing-draught, under the influence of which he soon fell into alethargy, and, for a time, forgot his troubles.

  The vintner, who was a very hearty old fellow and a worthy man, hadno thoughts of going to bed himself, for he had received severalthreatening warnings from the rioters, and had indeed gone out thatevening to try and gather from the conversation of the mob whether hishouse was to be the next attacked. He sat all night in an easy-chair inthe same room--dozing a little now and then--and received from timeto time the reports of John Grueby and two or three other trustworthypersons in his employ, who went out into the streets as scouts; andfor whose entertainment an ample allowance of good cheer (which the oldvintner, despite his anxiety, now and then attacked himself) was setforth in an adjoining chamber.

  These accounts were of a sufficiently alarming nature from the first;but as the night wore on, they grew so much worse, and involved such afearful amount of riot and destruction, that in comparison with thesenew tidings all the previous disturbances sunk to nothing.

  The first intelligence that came, was of the taking of Newgate, and theescape of all the prisoners, whose track, as they made up Holborn andinto the adjacent street
s, was proclaimed to those citizens who wereshut up in their houses, by the rattling of their chains, which formeda dismal concert, and was heard in every direction, as though so manyforges were at work. The flames too, shone so brightly through thevintner's skylights, that the rooms and staircases below were nearly aslight as in broad day; while the distant shouting of the mob seemed toshake the very walls and ceilings.

  At length they were heard approaching the house, and some minutes ofterrible anxiety ensued. They came close up, and stopped before it;but after giving three loud yells, went on. And although they returnedseveral times that night, creating new alarms each time, they didnothing there; having their hands full. Shortly after they had gone awayfor the first time, one of the scouts came running in with the news thatthey had stopped before Lord Mansfield's house in Bloomsbury Square.

  Soon afterwards there came another, and another, and then the firstreturned again, and so, by little and little, their tale was this:--Thatthe mob gathering round Lord Mansfield's house, had called on thosewithin to open the door, and receiving no reply (for Lord and LadyMansfield were at that moment escaping by the backway), forced anentrance according to their usual custom. That they then began todemolish the house with great fury, and setting fire to it in severalparts, involved in a common ruin the whole of the costly furniture, theplate and jewels, a beautiful gallery of pictures, the rarest collectionof manuscripts ever possessed by any one private person in the world,and worse than all, because nothing could replace this loss, the greatLaw Library, on almost every page of which were notes in the Judge'sown hand, of inestimable value,--being the results of the study andexperience of his whole life. That while they were howling and exultinground the fire, a troop of soldiers, with a magistrate among them, cameup, and being too late (for the mischief was by that time done), beganto disperse the crowd. That the Riot Act being read, and the crowd stillresisting, the soldiers received orders to fire, and levelling theirmuskets shot dead at the first discharge six men and a woman, andwounded many persons; and loading again directly, fired another volley,but over the people's heads it was supposed, as none were seen to fall.That thereupon, and daunted by the shrieks and tumult, the crowd beganto disperse, and the soldiers went away, leaving the killed and woundedon the ground: which they had no sooner done than the rioters came backagain, and taking up the dead bodies, and the wounded people, formedinto a rude procession, having the bodies in the front. That in thisorder they paraded off with a horrible merriment; fixing weapons in thedead men's hands to make them look as if alive; and preceded by a fellowringing Lord Mansfield's dinner-bell with all his might.

  The scouts reported further, that this party meeting with some otherswho had been at similar work elsewhere, they all united into one, anddrafting off a few men with the killed and wounded, marched away to LordMansfield's country seat at Caen Wood, between Hampstead and Highgate;bent upon destroying that house likewise, and lighting up a great firethere, which from that height should be seen all over London. But inthis, they were disappointed, for a party of horse having arrived beforethem, they retreated faster than they went, and came straight back totown.

  There being now a great many parties in the streets, each went towork according to its humour, and a dozen houses were quickly blazing,including those of Sir John Fielding and two other justices, and fourin Holborn--one of the greatest thoroughfares in London--which were allburning at the same time, and burned until they went out of themselves,for the people cut the engine hose, and would not suffer the firemen toplay upon the flames. At one house near Moorfields, they found in one ofthe rooms some canary birds in cages, and these they cast into the firealive. The poor little creatures screamed, it was said, like infants,when they were flung upon the blaze; and one man was so touched that hetried in vain to save them, which roused the indignation of the crowd,and nearly cost him his life.

  At this same house, one of the fellows who went through the rooms,breaking the furniture and helping to destroy the building, found achild's doll--a poor toy--which he exhibited at the window to the mobbelow, as the image of some unholy saint which the late occupants hadworshipped. While he was doing this, another man with an equally tenderconscience (they had both been foremost in throwing down the canarybirds for roasting alive), took his seat on the parapet of the house,and harangued the crowd from a pamphlet circulated by the Association,relative to the true principles of Christianity! Meanwhile the LordMayor, with his hands in his pockets, looked on as an idle man mightlook at any other show, and seemed mightily satisfied to have got a goodplace.

  Such were the accounts brought to the old vintner by his servants as hesat at the side of Mr Haredale's bed, having been unable even to doze,after the first part of the night; too much disturbed by his own fears;by the cries of the mob, the light of the fires, and the firing of thesoldiers. Such, with the addition of the release of all the prisoners inthe New Jail at Clerkenwell, and as many robberies of passengers inthe streets, as the crowd had leisure to indulge in, were the scenes ofwhich Mr Haredale was happily unconscious, and which were all enactedbefore midnight.