A mob is usually a creature of very mysterious existence,
particularly in a large city. Where it comes from or whither it goes, few men
can tell. Assembling and dispersing with equal suddenness, it is as difficult to
follow to its various sources as the sea itself; nor does the parallel stop
here, for the ocean is not more fickle and uncertain, more terrible when roused,
more unreasonable, or more cruel.
The people who were boisterous at Westminster upon the Friday morning, and
were eagerly bent upon the work of devastation in Duke Street and Warwick Street
at night, were, in the mass, the same. Allowing for the chance accessions of
which any crowd is morally sure in a town where there must always be a large
number of idle and profligate persons, one and the same mob was at both places.
Yet they spread themselves in various directions when they dispersed in the
afternoon, made no appointment for reassembling, had no definite purpose or
design, and indeed, for anything they knew, were scattered beyond the hope of
future union.
At The Boot, which, as has been shown, was in a manner the head- quarters of
the rioters, there were not, upon this Friday night, a dozen people. Some slept
in the stable and outhouses, some in the common room, some two or three in beds.
The rest were in their usual homes or haunts. Perhaps not a score in all lay in
the adjacent fields and lanes, and under haystacks, or near the warmth of
brick-kilns, who had not their accustomed place of rest beneath the open sky. As
to the public ways within the town, they had their ordinary nightly occupants,
and no others; the usual amount of vice and wretchedness, but no more.
The experience of one evening, however, had taught the reckless leaders of
disturbance, that they had but to show themselves in the streets, to be
immediately surrounded by materials which they could only have kept together
when their aid was not required, at great risk, expense, and trouble. Once
possessed of this secret, they were as confident as if twenty thousand men,
devoted to their will, had been encamped about them, and assumed a confidence
which could not have been surpassed, though that had really been the case. All
day, Saturday, they remained quiet. On Sunday, they rather studied how to keep
their men within call, and in full hope, than to follow out, by any fierce
measure, their first day's proceedings.
'I hope,' said Dennis, as, with a loud yawn, he raised his body from a heap
of straw on which he had been sleeping, and supporting his head upon his hand,
appealed to Hugh on Sunday morning, 'that Muster Gashford allows some rest?
Perhaps he'd have us at work again already, eh?'
'It's not his way to let matters drop, you may be sure of that,' growled Hugh
in answer. 'I'm in no humour to stir yet, though. I'm as stiff as a dead body,
and as full of ugly scratches as if I had been fighting all day yesterday with
wild cats.'
'You've so much enthusiasm, that's it,' said Dennis, looking with great
admiration at the uncombed head, matted beard, and torn hands and face of the
wild figure before him; 'you're such a devil of a fellow. You hurt yourself a
hundred times more than you need, because you will be foremost in everything,
and will do more than the rest.'
'For the matter of that,' returned Hugh, shaking back his ragged hair and
glancing towards the door of the stable in which they lay; 'there's one yonder
as good as me. What did I tell you about him? Did I say he was worth a dozen,
when you doubted him?'
Mr Dennis rolled lazily over upon his breast, and resting his chin upon his
hand in imitation of the attitude in which Hugh lay, said, as he too looked
towards the door:
'Ay, ay, you knew him, brother, you knew him. But who'd suppose to look at
that chap now, that he could be the man he is! Isn't it a thousand cruel pities,
brother, that instead of taking his nat'ral rest and qualifying himself for
further exertions in this here honourable cause, he should be playing at
soldiers like a boy? And his cleanliness too!' said Mr Dennis, who certainly had
no reason to entertain a fellow feeling with anybody who was particular on that
score; 'what weaknesses he's guilty of; with respect to his cleanliness! At five
o'clock this morning, there he was at the pump, though any one would think he
had gone through enough, the day before yesterday, to be pretty fast asleep at
that time. But no--when I woke for a minute or two, there he was at the pump,
and if you'd seen him sticking them peacock's feathers into his hat when he'd
done washing--ah! I'm sorry he's such a imperfect character, but the best on us
is incomplete in some pint of view or another.'
The subject of this dialogue and of these concluding remarks, which were
uttered in a tone of philosophical meditation, was, as the reader will have
divined, no other than Barnaby, who, with his flag in hand, stood sentry in the
little patch of sunlight at the distant door, or walked to and fro outside,
singing softly to himself; and keeping time to the music of some clear church
bells. Whether he stood still, leaning with both hands on the flagstaff, or,
bearing it upon his shoulder, paced slowly up and down, the careful arrangement
of his poor dress, and his erect and lofty bearing, showed how high a sense he
had of the great importance of his trust, and how happy and how proud it made
him. To Hugh and his companion, who lay in a dark corner of the gloomy shed, he,
and the sunlight, and the peaceful Sabbath sound to which he made response,
seemed like a bright picture framed by the door, and set off by the stable's
blackness. The whole formed such a contrast to themselves, as they lay
wallowing, like some obscene animals, in their squalor and wickedness on the two
heaps of straw, that for a few moments they looked on without speaking, and felt
almost ashamed.
'Ah!'said Hugh at length, carrying it off with a laugh: 'He's a rare fellow
is Barnaby, and can do more, with less rest, or meat, or drink, than any of us.
As to his soldiering, I put him on duty there.'
'Then there was a object in it, and a proper good one too, I'll be sworn,'
retorted Dennis with a broad grin, and an oath of the same quality. 'What was
it, brother?'
'Why, you see,' said Hugh, crawling a little nearer to him, 'that our noble
captain yonder, came in yesterday morning rather the worse for liquor, and
was--like you and me--ditto last night.'
Dennis looked to where Simon Tappertit lay coiled upon a truss of hay,
snoring profoundly, and nodded.
'And our noble captain,' continued Hugh with another laugh, 'our noble
captain and I, have planned for to-morrow a roaring expedition, with good profit
in it.'
'Again the Papists?' asked Dennis, rubbing his hands.
'Ay, against the Papists--against one of 'em at least, that some of us, and I
for one, owe a good heavy grudge to.'
'Not Muster Gashford's friend that he spoke to us about in my house, eh?'
said Dennis, brimfull of pleasant expectation.
'The same man,' said Hugh.
'That's your sort,' cried Mr Dennis, gaily shaking hands with him, 'that's
the kind of game. Let's have revenges and injuries, and all that, and we shall
get on twice as fast. Now you talk, indeed!'
'Ha ha ha! The captain,' added Hugh, 'has thoughts of carrying off a woman in
the bustle, and--ha ha ha!--and so have I!'
Mr Dennis received this part of the scheme with a wry face, observing that as
a general principle he objected to women altogether, as being unsafe and
slippery persons on whom there was no calculating with any certainty, and who
were never in the same mind for four-and-twenty hours at a stretch. He might
have expatiated on this suggestive theme at much greater length, but that it
occurred to him to ask what connection existed between the proposed expedition
and Barnaby's being posted at the stable-door as sentry; to which Hugh
cautiously replied in these words:
'Why, the people we mean to visit, were friends of his, once upon a time, and
I know that much of him to feel pretty sure that if he thought we were going to
do them any harm, he'd be no friend to our side, but would lend a ready hand to
the other. So I've persuaded him (for I know him of old) that Lord George has
picked him out to guard this place to-morrow while we're away, and that it's a
great honour--and so he's on duty now, and as proud of it as if he was a
general. Ha ha! What do you say to me for a careful man as well as a devil of a
one?'
Mr Dennis exhausted himself in compliments, and then added,
'But about the expedition itself--'
'About that,' said Hugh, 'you shall hear all particulars from me and the
great captain conjointly and both together--for see, he's waking up. Rouse
yourself, lion-heart. Ha ha! Put a good face upon it, and drink again. Another
hair of the dog that bit you, captain! Call for drink! There's enough of gold
and silver cups and candlesticks buried underneath my bed,' he added, rolling
back the straw, and pointing to where the ground was newly turned, 'to pay for
it, if it was a score of casks full. Drink, captain!'
Mr Tappertit received these jovial promptings with a very bad grace, being
much the worse, both in mind and body, for his two nights of debauch, and but
indifferently able to stand upon his legs. With Hugh's assistance, however, he
contrived to stagger to the pump; and having refreshed himself with an abundant
draught of cold water, and a copious shower of the same refreshing liquid on his
head and face, he ordered some rum and milk to be served; and upon that innocent
beverage and some biscuits and cheese made a pretty hearty meal. That done, he
disposed himself in an easy attitude on the ground beside his two companions
(who were carousing after their own tastes), and proceeded to enlighten Mr
Dennis in reference to to-morrow's project.
That their conversation was an interesting one, was rendered manifest by its
length, and by the close attention of all three. That it was not of an
oppressively grave character, but was enlivened by various pleasantries arising
out of the subject, was clear from their loud and frequent roars of laughter,
which startled Barnaby on his post, and made him wonder at their levity. But he
was not summoned to join them, until they had eaten, and drunk, and slept, and
talked together for some hours; not, indeed, until the twilight; when they
informed him that they were about to make a slight demonstration in the
streets--just to keep the people's hands in, as it was Sunday night, and the
public might otherwise be disappointed--and that he was free to accompany them
if he would.
Without the slightest preparation, saving that they carried clubs and wore
the blue cockade, they sallied out into the streets; and, with no more settled
design than that of doing as much mischief as they could, paraded them at
random. Their numbers rapidly increasing, they soon divided into parties; and
agreeing to meet by-and-by, in the fields near Welbeck Street, scoured the town
in various directions. The largest body, and that which augmented with the
greatest rapidity, was the one to which Hugh and Barnaby belonged. This took its
way towards Moorfields, where there was a rich chapel, and in which
neighbourhood several Catholic families were known to reside.
Beginning with the private houses so occupied, they broke open the doors and
windows; and while they destroyed the furniture and left but the bare walls,
made a sharp search for tools and engines of destruction, such as hammers,
pokers, axes, saws, and such like instruments. Many of the rioters made belts of
cord, of handkerchiefs, or any material they found at hand, and wore these
weapons as openly as pioneers upon a field-day. There was not the least disguise
or concealment--indeed, on this night, very little excitement or hurry. From the
chapels, they tore down and took away the very altars, benches, pulpits, pews,
and flooring; from the dwelling-houses, the very wainscoting and stairs. This
Sunday evening's recreation they pursued like mere workmen who had a certain
task to do, and did it. Fifty resolute men might have turned them at any moment;
a single company of soldiers could have scattered them like dust; but no man
interposed, no authority restrained them, and, except by the terrified persons
who fled from their approach, they were as little heeded as if they were
pursuing their lawful occupations with the utmost sobriety and good conduct.
In the same manner, they marched to the place of rendezvous agreed upon, made
great fires in the fields, and reserving the most valuable of their spoils,
burnt the rest. Priestly garments, images of saints, rich stuffs and ornaments,
altar-furniture and household goods, were cast into the flames, and shed a glare
on the whole country round; but they danced and howled, and roared about these
fires till they were tired, and were never for an instant checked.
As the main body filed off from this scene of action, and passed down Welbeck
Street, they came upon Gashford, who had been a witness of their proceedings,
and was walking stealthily along the pavement. Keeping up with him, and yet not
seeming to speak, Hugh muttered in his ear:
'Is this better, master?'
'No,' said Gashford. 'It is not.'
'What would you have?' said Hugh. 'Fevers are never at their height at once.
They must get on by degrees.'
'I would have you,' said Gashford, pinching his arm with such malevolence
that his nails seemed to meet in the skin; 'I would have you put some meaning
into your work. Fools! Can you make no better bonfires than of rags and scraps?
Can you burn nothing
whole?'
'A little patience, master,' said Hugh. 'Wait but a few hours, and you shall
see. Look for a redness in the sky, to-morrow night.'
With that, he fell back into his place beside Barnaby; and when the secretary
looked after him, both were lost in the crowd.
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