They were among the first to reach the tavern, but they had not
been there many minutes, when several groups of men who had formed part of the
crowd, came straggling in. Among them were Simon Tappertit and Mr Dennis; both
of whom, but especially the latter, greeted Barnaby with the utmost warmth, and
paid him many compliments on the prowess he had shown.
'Which,' said Dennis, with an oath, as he rested his bludgeon in a corner
with his hat upon it, and took his seat at the same table with them, 'it does me
good to think of. There was a opportunity! But it led to nothing. For my part, I
don't know what would. There's no spirit among the people in these here times.
Bring something to eat and drink here. I'm disgusted with humanity.'
'On what account?' asked Mr Tappertit, who had been quenching his fiery face
in a half-gallon can. 'Don't you consider this a good beginning, mister?'
'Give me security that it an't a ending,' rejoined the hangman. 'When that
soldier went down, we might have made London ours; but no;--we stand, and gape,
and look on--the justice (I wish he had had a bullet in each eye, as he would
have had, if we'd gone to work my way) says, "My lads, if you'll give me your
word to disperse, I'll order off the military," our people sets up a hurrah,
throws up the game with the winning cards in their hands, and skulks away like a
pack of tame curs as they are. Ah,' said the hangman, in a tone of deep disgust,
'it makes me blush for my feller creeturs. I wish I had been born a ox, I do!'
'You'd have been quite as agreeable a character if you had been, I think,'
returned Simon Tappertit, going out in a lofty manner.
'Don't be too sure of that,' rejoined the hangman, calling after him; 'if I
was a horned animal at the present moment, with the smallest grain of sense, I'd
toss every man in this company, excepting them two,' meaning Hugh and Barnaby,
'for his manner of conducting himself this day.'
With which mournful review of their proceedings, Mr Dennis sought consolation
in cold boiled beef and beer; but without at all relaxing the grim and
dissatisfied expression of his face, the gloom of which was rather deepened than
dissipated by their grateful influence.
The company who were thus libelled might have retaliated by strong words, if
not by blows, but they were dispirited and worn out. The greater part of them
had fasted since morning; all had suffered extremely from the excessive heat;
and between the day's shouting, exertion, and excitement, many had quite lost
their voices, and so much of their strength that they could hardly stand. Then
they were uncertain what to do next, fearful of the consequences of what they
had done already, and sensible that after all they had carried no point, but had
indeed left matters worse than they had found them. Of those who had come to The
Boot, many dropped off within an hour; such of them as were really honest and
sincere, never, after the morning's experience, to return, or to hold any
communication with their late companions. Others remained but to refresh
themselves, and then went home desponding; others who had theretofore been
regular in their attendance, avoided the place altogether. The half-dozen
prisoners whom the Guards had taken, were magnified by report into
half-a-hundred at least; and their friends, being faint and sober, so slackened
in their energy, and so drooped beneath these dispiriting influences, that by
eight o'clock in the evening, Dennis, Hugh, and Barnaby, were left alone. Even
they were fast asleep upon the benches, when Gashford's entrance roused them.
'Oh! you ARE here then?' said the Secretary. 'Dear me!'
'Why, where should we be, Muster Gashford!' Dennis rejoined as he rose into a
sitting posture.
'Oh nowhere, nowhere,' he returned with excessive mildness. 'The streets are
filled with blue cockades. I rather thought you might have been among them. I am
glad you are not.'
'You have orders for us, master, then?' said Hugh.
'Oh dear, no. Not I. No orders, my good fellow. What orders should I have?
You are not in my service.'
'Muster Gashford,' remonstrated Dennis, 'we belong to the cause, don't we?'
'The cause!' repeated the secretary, looking at him in a sort of abstraction.
'There is no cause. The cause is lost.'
'Lost!'
'Oh yes. You have heard, I suppose? The petition is rejected by a hundred and
ninety-two, to six. It's quite final. We might have spared ourselves some
trouble. That, and my lord's vexation, are the only circumstances I regret. I am
quite satisfied in all other respects.'
As he said this, he took a penknife from his pocket, and putting his hat upon
his knee, began to busy himself in ripping off the blue cockade which he had
worn all day; at the same time humming a psalm tune which had been very popular
in the morning, and dwelling on it with a gentle regret.
His two adherents looked at each other, and at him, as if they were at a loss
how to pursue the subject. At length Hugh, after some elbowing and winking
between himself and Mr Dennis, ventured to stay his hand, and to ask him why he
meddled with that riband in his hat.
'Because,' said the secretary, looking up with something between a snarl and
a smile; 'because to sit still and wear it, or to fall asleep and wear it, is a
mockery. That's all, friend.'
'What would you have us do, master!' cried Hugh.
'Nothing,' returned Gashford, shrugging his shoulders, 'nothing. When my lord
was reproached and threatened for standing by you, I, as a prudent man, would
have had you do nothing. When the soldiers were trampling you under their
horses' feet, I would have had you do nothing. When one of them was struck down
by a daring hand, and I saw confusion and dismay in all their faces, I would
have had you do nothing--just what you did, in short. This is the young man who
had so little prudence and so much boldness. Ah! I am sorry for him.'
'Sorry, master!' cried Hugh.
'Sorry, Muster Gashford!' echoed Dennis.
'In case there should be a proclamation out to-morrow, offering five hundred
pounds, or some such trifle, for his apprehension; and in case it should include
another man who dropped into the lobby from the stairs above,' said Gashford,
coldly; 'still, do nothing.'
'Fire and fury, master!' cried Hugh, starting up. 'What have we done, that
you should talk to us like this!'
'Nothing,' returned Gashford with a sneer. 'If you are cast into prison; if
the young man--' here he looked hard at Barnaby's attentive face--'is dragged
from us and from his friends; perhaps from people whom he loves, and whom his
death would kill; is thrown into jail, brought out and hanged before their eyes;
still, do nothing. You'll find it your best policy, I have no doubt.'
'Come on!' cried Hugh, striding towards the door. 'Dennis-- Barnaby--come
on!'
'Where? To do what?' said Gashford, slipping past him, and standing with his
back against it.
'Anywhere! Anything!' cried Hugh. 'Stand aside, master, or the window will
serve our turn as well. Let us out!'
'Ha ha ha! You are of such--of such an impetuous nature,' said Gashford,
changing his manner for one of the utmost good fellowship and the pleasantest
raillery; 'you are such an excitable creature-- but you'll drink with me before
you go?'
'Oh, yes--certainly,' growled Dennis, drawing his sleeve across his thirsty
lips. 'No malice, brother. Drink with Muster Gashford!'
Hugh wiped his heated brow, and relaxed into a smile. The artful secretary
laughed outright.
'Some liquor here! Be quick, or he'll not stop, even for that. He is a man of
such desperate ardour!' said the smooth secretary, whom Mr Dennis corroborated
with sundry nods and muttered oaths--'Once roused, he is a fellow of such fierce
determination!'
Hugh poised his sturdy arm aloft, and clapping Barnaby on the back, bade him
fear nothing. They shook hands together--poor Barnaby evidently possessed with
the idea that he was among the most virtuous and disinterested heroes in the
world--and Gashford laughed again.
'I hear,' he said smoothly, as he stood among them with a great measure of
liquor in his hand, and filled their glasses as quickly and as often as they
chose, 'I hear--but I cannot say whether it be true or false--that the men who
are loitering in the streets to- night are half disposed to pull down a Romish
chapel or two, and that they only want leaders. I even heard mention of those in
Duke Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, and in Warwick Street, Golden Square; but
common report, you know--You are not going?'
--'To do nothing, rnaster, eh?' cried Hugh. 'No jails and halter for Barnaby
and me. They must be frightened out of that. Leaders are wanted, are they? Now
boys!'
'A most impetuous fellow!' cried the secretary. 'Ha ha! A courageous,
boisterous, most vehement fellow! A man who--'
There was no need to finish the sentence, for they had rushed out of the
house, and were far beyond hearing. He stopped in the middle of a laugh,
listened, drew on his gloves, and, clasping his hands behind him, paced the
deserted room for a long time, then bent his steps towards the busy town, and
walked into the streets.
They were filled with people, for the rumour of that day's proceedings had
made a great noise. Those persons who did not care to leave home, were at their
doors or windows, and one topic of discourse prevailed on every side. Some
reported that the riots were effectually put down; others that they had broken
out again: some said that Lord George Gordon had been sent under a strong guard
to the Tower; others that an attempt had been made upon the King's life, that
the soldiers had been again called out, and that the noise of musketry in a
distant part of the town had been plainly heard within an hour. As it grew
darker, these stories became more direful and mysterious; and often, when some
frightened passenger ran past with tidings that the rioters were not far off,
and were coming up, the doors were shut and barred, lower windows made secure,
and as much consternation engendered, as if the city were invaded by a foreign
army.
Gashford walked stealthily about, listening to all he heard, and diffusing or
confirming, whenever he had an opportunity, such false intelligence as suited
his own purpose; and, busily occupied in this way, turned into Holborn for the
twentieth time, when a great many women and children came flying along the
street--often panting and looking back--and the confused murmur of numerous
voices struck upon his ear. Assured by these tokens, and by the red light which
began to flash upon the houses on either side, that some of his friends were
indeed approaching, he begged a moment's shelter at a door which opened as he
passed, and running with some other persons to an upper window, looked out upon
the crowd.
They had torches among them, and the chief faces were distinctly visible.
That they had been engaged in the destruction of some building was sufficiently
apparent, and that it was a Catholic place of worship was evident from the
spoils they bore as trophies, which were easily recognisable for the vestments
of priests, and rich fragments of altar furniture. Covered with soot, and dirt,
and dust, and lime; their garments torn to rags; their hair hanging wildly about
them; their hands and faces jagged and bleeding with the wounds of rusty nails;
Barnaby, Hugh, and Dennis hurried on before them all, like hideous madmen. After
them, the dense throng came fighting on: some singing; some shouting in triumph;
some quarrelling among themselves; some menacing the spectators as they
passed; some with great wooden fragments, on which they spent their rage as
if they had been alive, rending them limb from limb, and hurling the scattered
morsels high into the air; some in a drunken state, unconscious of the hurts
they had received from falling bricks, and stones, and beams; one borne upon a
shutter, in the very midst, covered with a dingy cloth, a senseless, ghastly
heap. Thus--a vision of coarse faces, with here and there a blot of flaring,
smoky light; a dream of demon heads and savage eyes, and sticks and iron bars
uplifted in the air, and whirled about; a bewildering horror, in which so much
was seen, and yet so little, which seemed so long, and yet so short, in which
there were so many phantoms, not to be forgotten all through life, and yet so
many things that could not be observed in one distracting glimpse--it flitted
onward, and was gone.
As it passed away upon its work of wrath and ruin, a piercing scream was
heard. A knot of persons ran towards the spot; Gashford, who just then emerged
into the street, among them. He was on the outskirts of the little concourse,
and could not see or hear what passed within; but one who had a better place,
informed
him that a widow woman had descried her son among the rioters.
'Is that all?' said the secretary, turning his face homewards. 'Well! I think
this looks a little more like business!'
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