Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty

by Charles Dickens

  Chapter 80

  That afternoon, when he had slept off his fatigue; had shaved, andwashed, and dressed, and freshened himself from top to toe; when he haddined, comforted himself with a pipe, an extra Toby, a nap in the greatarm-chair, and a quiet chat with Mrs Varden on everything that hadhappened, was happening, or about to happen, within the sphere of theirdomestic concern; the locksmith sat himself down at the tea-table inthe little back-parlour: the rosiest, cosiest, merriest, heartiest,best-contented old buck, in Great Britain or out of it.

  There he sat, with his beaming eye on Mrs V., and his shining facesuffused with gladness, and his capacious waistcoat smiling in everywrinkle, and his jovial humour peeping from under the table in the veryplumpness of his legs; a sight to turn the vinegar of misanthropy intopurest milk of human kindness. There he sat, watching his wife as shedecorated the room with flowers for the greater honour of Dolly andJoseph Willet, who had gone out walking, and for whom the tea-kettlehad been singing gaily on the hob full twenty minutes, chirping asnever kettle chirped before; for whom the best service of real undoubtedchina, patterned with divers round-faced mandarins holding up broadumbrellas, was now displayed in all its glory; to tempt whoseappetites a clear, transparent, juicy ham, garnished with cool greenlettuce-leaves and fragrant cucumber, reposed upon a shady table,covered with a snow-white cloth; for whose delight, preserves and jams,crisp cakes and other pastry, short to eat, with cunning twists, andcottage loaves, and rolls of bread both white and brown, were all setforth in rich profusion; in whose youth Mrs V. herself had grown quiteyoung, and stood there in a gown of red and white: symmetrical infigure, buxom in bodice, ruddy in cheek and lip, faultless in ankle,laughing in face and mood, in all respects delicious to behold--theresat the locksmith among all and every these delights, the sun that shoneupon them all: the centre of the system: the source of light, heat,life, and frank enjoyment in the bright household world.

  And when had Dolly ever been the Dolly of that afternoon? To see how shecame in, arm-in-arm with Joe; and how she made an effort not to blush orseem at all confused; and how she made believe she didn't care to sit onhis side of the table; and how she coaxed the locksmith in a whisper notto joke; and how her colour came and went in a little restless flutterof happiness, which made her do everything wrong, and yet so charminglywrong that it was better than right!--why, the locksmith could havelooked on at this (as he mentioned to Mrs Varden when they retired forthe night) for four-and-twenty hours at a stretch, and never wished itdone.

  The recollections, too, with which they made merry over that longprotracted tea! The glee with which the locksmith asked Joe if heremembered that stormy night at the Maypole when he first asked afterDolly--the laugh they all had, about that night when she was going outto the party in the sedan-chair--the unmerciful manner in which theyrallied Mrs Varden about putting those flowers outside that verywindow--the difficulty Mrs Varden found in joining the laugh againstherself, at first, and the extraordinary perception she had of the jokewhen she overcame it--the confidential statements of Joe concerning theprecise day and hour when he was first conscious of being fond of Dolly,and Dolly's blushing admissions, half volunteered and half extorted, asto the time from which she dated the discovery that she 'didn't mind'Joe--here was an exhaustless fund of mirth and conversation.

  Then, there was a great deal to be said regarding Mrs Varden's doubts,and motherly alarms, and shrewd suspicions; and it appeared that fromMrs Varden's penetration and extreme sagacity nothing had ever beenhidden. She had known it all along. She had seen it from the first. Shehad always predicted it. She had been aware of it before the principals.She had said within herself (for she remembered the exact words) 'thatyoung Willet is certainly looking after our Dolly, and I must lookafter HIM.' Accordingly, she had looked after him, and had observed manylittle circumstances (all of which she named) so exceedingly minute thatnobody else could make anything out of them even now; and had, itseemed from first to last, displayed the most unbounded tact and mostconsummate generalship.

  Of course the night when Joe WOULD ride homeward by the side of thechaise, and when Mrs Varden WOULD insist upon his going back again,was not forgotten--nor the night when Dolly fainted on his name beingmentioned--nor the times upon times when Mrs Varden, ever watchful andprudent, had found her pining in her own chamber. In short, nothing wasforgotten; and everything by some means or other brought them back tothe conclusion, that that was the happiest hour in all their lives;consequently, that everything must have occurred for the best, andnothing could be suggested which would have made it better.

  While they were in the full glow of such discourse as this, there came astartling knock at the door, opening from the street into the workshop,which had been kept closed all day that the house might be more quiet.Joe, as in duty bound, would hear of nobody but himself going to openit; and accordingly left the room for that purpose.

  It would have been odd enough, certainly, if Joe had forgotten the wayto this door; and even if he had, as it was a pretty large one and stoodstraight before him, he could not easily have missed it. But Dolly,perhaps because she was in the flutter of spirits before mentioned, orperhaps because she thought he would not be able to open it with his onearm--she could have had no other reason--hurried out after him; and theystopped so long in the passage--no doubt owing to Joe's entreatiesthat she would not expose herself to the draught of July air which mustinfallibly come rushing in on this same door being opened--that theknock was repeated, in a yet more startling manner than before.

  'Is anybody going to open that door?' cried the locksmith. 'Or shall Icome?'

  Upon that, Dolly went running back into the parlour, all dimples andblushes; and Joe opened it with a mighty noise, and other superfluousdemonstrations of being in a violent hurry.

  'Well,' said the locksmith, when he reappeared: 'what is it? eh Joe?what are you laughing at?'

  'Nothing, sir. It's coming in.'

  'Who's coming in? what's coming in?' Mrs Varden, as much at a loss asher husband, could only shake her head in answer to his inquiring look:so, the locksmith wheeled his chair round to command a better view ofthe room-door, and stared at it with his eyes wide open, and a mingledexpression of curiosity and wonder shining in his jolly face.

  Instead of some person or persons straightway appearing, diversremarkable sounds were heard, first in the workshop and afterwardsin the little dark passage between it and the parlour, as though someunwieldy chest or heavy piece of furniture were being brought in, by anamount of human strength inadequate to the task. At length after muchstruggling and humping, and bruising of the wall on both sides, thedoor was forced open as by a battering-ram; and the locksmith, steadilyregarding what appeared beyond, smote his thigh, elevated his eyebrows,opened his mouth, and cried in a loud voice expressive of the utmostconsternation:

  'Damme, if it an't Miggs come back!'

  The young damsel whom he named no sooner heard these words, thandeserting a small boy and a very large box by which she was accompanied,and advancing with such precipitation that her bonnet flew off her head,burst into the room, clasped her hands (in which she held a pair ofpattens, one in each), raised her eyes devotedly to the ceiling, andshed a flood of tears.

  'The old story!' cried the locksmith, looking at her in inexpressibledesperation. 'She was born to be a damper, this young woman! nothing canprevent it!'

  'Ho master, ho mim!' cried Miggs, 'can I constrain my feelings in thesehere once agin united moments! Ho Mr Warsen, here's blessednessamong relations, sir! Here's forgivenesses of injuries, here'samicablenesses!'

  The locksmith looked from his wife to Dolly, and from Dolly to Joe, andfrom Joe to Miggs, with his eyebrows still elevated and his mouth stillopen. When his eyes got back to Miggs, they rested on her; fascinated.

  'To think,' cried Miggs with hysterical joy, 'that Mr Joe, and dearMiss Dolly, has raly come together after all as has been said and donecontrairy! To see them two a-settin' along with him and her, so pleasantand in
all respects so affable and mild; and me not knowing of it, andnot being in the ways to make no preparations for their teas. Ho what acutting thing it is, and yet what sweet sensations is awoke within me!'

  Either in clasping her hands again, or in an ecstasy of pious joy, MissMiggs clinked her pattens after the manner of a pair of cymbals, at thisjuncture; and then resumed, in the softest accents:

  'And did my missis think--ho goodness, did she think--as her own Miggs,which supported her under so many trials, and understood her natur'when them as intended well but acted rough, went so deep into herfeelings--did she think as her own Miggs would ever leave her? Did shethink as Miggs, though she was but a servant, and knowed that servitudeswas no inheritances, would forgit that she was the humble instrumentsas always made it comfortable between them two when they fell out,and always told master of the meekness and forgiveness of her blesseddispositions! Did she think as Miggs had no attachments! Did she thinkthat wages was her only object!'

  To none of these interrogatories, whereof every one was morepathetically delivered than the last, did Mrs Varden answer one word:but Miggs, not at all abashed by this circumstance, turned to thesmall boy in attendance--her eldest nephew--son of her own marriedsister--born in Golden Lion Court, number twenty-sivin, and bred in thevery shadow of the second bell-handle on the right-hand door-post--andwith a plentiful use of her pocket-handkerchief, addressed herself tohim: requesting that on his return home he would console his parents forthe loss of her, his aunt, by delivering to them a faithful statementof his having left her in the bosom of that family, with which, as hisaforesaid parents well knew, her best affections were incorporated; thathe would remind them that nothing less than her imperious sense of duty,and devoted attachment to her old master and missis, likewise Miss Dollyand young Mr Joe, should ever have induced her to decline that pressinginvitation which they, his parents, had, as he could testify, given her,to lodge and board with them, free of all cost and charge, for evermore;lastly, that he would help her with her box upstairs, and then repairstraight home, bearing her blessing and her strong injunctions to minglein his prayers a supplication that he might in course of time grow upa locksmith, or a Mr Joe, and have Mrs Vardens and Miss Dollys for hisrelations and friends.

  Having brought this admonition to an end--upon which, to say the truth,the young gentleman for whose benefit it was designed, bestowed littleor no heed, having to all appearance his faculties absorbed in thecontemplation of the sweetmeats,--Miss Miggs signified to the company ingeneral that they were not to be uneasy, for she would soon return; and,with her nephew's aid, prepared to bear her wardrobe up the staircase.

  'My dear,' said the locksmith to his wife. 'Do you desire this?'

  'I desire it!' she answered. 'I am astonished--I am amazed--at heraudacity. Let her leave the house this moment.'

  Miggs, hearing this, let her end of the box fall heavily to the floor,gave a very loud sniff, crossed her arms, screwed down the corners ofher mouth, and cried, in an ascending scale, 'Ho, good gracious!' threedistinct times.

  'You hear what your mistress says, my love,' remarked the locksmith.'You had better go, I think. Stay; take this with you, for the sake ofold service.'

  Miss Miggs clutched the bank-note he took from his pocket-book and heldout to her; deposited it in a small, red leather purse; put the pursein her pocket (displaying, as she did so, a considerable portion of someunder-garment, made of flannel, and more black cotton stocking than iscommonly seen in public); and, tossing her head, as she looked at MrsVarden, repeated--

  'Ho, good gracious!'

  'I think you said that once before, my dear,' observed the locksmith.

  'Times is changed, is they, mim!' cried Miggs, bridling; 'you can spareme now, can you? You can keep 'em down without me? You're not in wantsof any one to scold, or throw the blame upon, no longer, an't you, mim?I'm glad to find you've grown so independent. I wish you joy, I'm sure!'

  With that she dropped a curtsey, and keeping her head erect, her eartowards Mrs Varden, and her eye on the rest of the company, as shealluded to them in her remarks, proceeded:

  'I'm quite delighted, I'm sure, to find sich independency, feeling sorrythough, at the same time, mim, that you should have been forced intosubmissions when you couldn't help yourself--he he he! It must be greatvexations, 'specially considering how ill you always spoke of Mr Joe--tohave him for a son-in-law at last; and I wonder Miss Dolly can putup with him, either, after being off and on for so many years with acoachmaker. But I HAVE heerd say, that the coachmaker thought twiceabout it--he he he!--and that he told a young man as was a frind of his,that he hoped he knowed better than to be drawed into that; though sheand all the family DID pull uncommon strong!'

  Here she paused for a reply, and receiving none, went on as before.

  'I HAVE heerd say, mim, that the illnesses of some ladies was allpretensions, and that they could faint away, stone dead, whenever theyhad the inclinations so to do. Of course I never see sich cases with myown eyes--ho no! He he he! Nor master neither--ho no! He he he! I HAVEheerd the neighbours make remark as some one as they was acquaintedwith, was a poor good-natur'd mean-spirited creetur, as went outfishing for a wife one day, and caught a Tartar. Of course I never to myknowledge see the poor person himself. Nor did you neither, mim--ho no.I wonder who it can be--don't you, mim? No doubt you do, mim. Ho yes. Hehe he!'

  Again Miggs paused for a reply; and none being offered, was so oppressedwith teeming spite and spleen, that she seemed like to burst.

  'I'm glad Miss Dolly can laugh,' cried Miggs with a feeble titter. 'Ilike to see folks a-laughing--so do you, mim, don't you? You was alwaysglad to see people in spirits, wasn't you, mim? And you always did yourbest to keep 'em cheerful, didn't you, mim? Though there an't such agreat deal to laugh at now either; is there, mim? It an't so much of acatch, after looking out so sharp ever since she was a little chit, andcosting such a deal in dress and show, to get a poor, common soldier,with one arm, is it, mim? He he! I wouldn't have a husband with one arm,anyways. I would have two arms. I would have two arms, if it was me,though instead of hands they'd only got hooks at the end, like ourdustman!'

  Miss Miggs was about to add, and had, indeed, begun to add, that,taking them in the abstract, dustmen were far more eligible matches thansoldiers, though, to be sure, when people were past choosing they musttake the best they could get, and think themselves well off too; but hervexation and chagrin being of that internally bitter sort which finds norelief in words, and is aggravated to madness by want of contradiction,she could hold out no longer, and burst into a storm of sobs and tears.

  In this extremity she fell on the unlucky nephew, tooth and nail, andplucking a handful of hair from his head, demanded to know how long shewas to stand there to be insulted, and whether or no he meant to helpher to carry out the box again, and if he took a pleasure in hearing hisfamily reviled: with other inquiries of that nature; at which disgraceand provocation, the small boy, who had been all this time graduallylashed into rebellion by the sight of unattainable pastry, walked offindignant, leaving his aunt and the box to follow at their leisure.Somehow or other, by dint of pushing and pulling, they did attain thestreet at last; where Miss Miggs, all blowzed with the exertion ofgetting there, and with her sobs and tears, sat down upon her propertyto rest and grieve, until she could ensnare some other youth to help herhome.

  'It's a thing to laugh at, Martha, not to care for,' whispered thelocksmith, as he followed his wife to the window, and good-humouredlydried her eyes. 'What does it matter? You had seen your fault before.Come! Bring up Toby again, my dear; Dolly shall sing us a song; andwe'll be all the merrier for this interruption!'