Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty
eulogy of the commanding view his house afforded, and the surpassing
cheapness of his terms.
A fairer morning never shone. From the roofs and upper stories of these
buildings, the spires of city churches and the great cathedral dome were
visible, rising up beyond the prison, into the blue sky, and clad in the
colour of light summer clouds, and showing in the clear atmosphere their
every scrap of tracery and fretwork, and every niche and loophole. All
was brightness and promise, excepting in the street below, into which
(for it yet lay in shadow) the eye looked down as into a dark trench,
where, in the midst of so much life, and hope, and renewal of existence,
stood the terrible instrument of death. It seemed as if the very sun
forbore to look upon it.
But it was better, grim and sombre in the shade, than when, the day
being more advanced, it stood confessed in the full glare and glory of
the sun, with its black paint blistering, and its nooses dangling in the
light like loathsome garlands. It was better in the solitude and gloom
of midnight with a few forms clustering about it, than in the freshness
and the stir of morning: the centre of an eager crowd. It was better
haunting the street like a spectre, when men were in their beds, and
influencing perchance the city’s dreams, than braving the broad day, and
thrusting its obscene presence upon their waking senses.
Five o’clock had struck--six--seven--and eight. Along the two main
streets at either end of the cross-way, a living stream had now set in,
rolling towards the marts of gain and business. Carts, coaches, waggons,
trucks, and barrows, forced a passage through the outskirts of the
throng, and clattered onward in the same direction. Some of these
which were public conveyances and had come from a short distance in the
country, stopped; and the driver pointed to the gibbet with his whip,
though he might have spared himself the pains, for the heads of all the
passengers were turned that way without his help, and the coach-windows
were stuck full of staring eyes. In some of the carts and waggons, women
might be seen, glancing fearfully at the same unsightly thing; and even
little children were held up above the people’s heads to see what kind
of a toy a gallows was, and learn how men were hanged.
Two rioters were to die before the prison, who had been concerned in
the attack upon it; and one directly afterwards in Bloomsbury Square.
At nine o’clock, a strong body of military marched into the street,
and formed and lined a narrow passage into Holborn, which had been
indifferently kept all night by constables. Through this, another
cart was brought (the one already mentioned had been employed in the
construction of the scaffold), and wheeled up to the prison-gate. These
preparations made, the soldiers stood at ease; the officers lounged
to and fro, in the alley they had made, or talked together at the
scaffold’s foot; and the concourse, which had been rapidly augmenting
for some hours, and still received additions every minute, waited with
an impatience which increased with every chime of St Sepulchre’s clock,
for twelve at noon.
Up to this time they had been very quiet, comparatively silent, save
when the arrival of some new party at a window, hitherto unoccupied,
gave them something new to look at or to talk of. But, as the hour
approached, a buzz and hum arose, which, deepening every moment, soon
swelled into a roar, and seemed to fill the air. No words or even voices
could be distinguished in this clamour, nor did they speak much to each
other; though such as were better informed upon the topic than the rest,
would tell their neighbours, perhaps, that they might know the hangman
when he came out, by his being the shorter one: and that the man who
was to suffer with him was named Hugh: and that it was Barnaby Rudge who
would be hanged in Bloomsbury Square.
The hum grew, as the time drew near, so loud, that those who were at the
windows could not hear the church-clock strike, though it was close at
hand. Nor had they any need to hear it, either, for they could see it
in the people’s faces. So surely as another quarter chimed, there was
a movement in the crowd--as if something had passed over it--as if the
light upon them had been changed--in which the fact was readable as on a
brazen dial, figured by a giant’s hand.
Three quarters past eleven! The murmur now was deafening, yet every man
seemed mute. Look where you would among the crowd, you saw strained eyes
and lips compressed; it would have been difficult for the most vigilant
observer to point this way or that, and say that yonder man had cried
out. It were as easy to detect the motion of lips in a sea-shell.
Three quarters past eleven! Many spectators who had retired from the
windows, came back refreshed, as though their watch had just begun.
Those who had fallen asleep, roused themselves; and every person in the
crowd made one last effort to better his position--which caused a press
against the sturdy barriers that made them bend and yield like twigs.
The officers, who until now had kept together, fell into their several
positions, and gave the words of command. Swords were drawn, muskets
shouldered, and the bright steel winding its way among the crowd,
gleamed and glittered in the sun like a river. Along this shining path,
two men came hurrying on, leading a horse, which was speedily harnessed
to the cart at the prison-door. Then, a profound silence replaced the
tumult that had so long been gathering, and a breathless pause ensued.
Every window was now choked up with heads; the house-tops teemed with
people--clinging to chimneys, peering over gable-ends, and holding on
where the sudden loosening of any brick or stone would dash them down
into the street. The church tower, the church roof, the church yard,
the prison leads, the very water-spouts and lampposts--every inch of
room--swarmed with human life.
At the first stroke of twelve the prison-bell began to toll. Then the
roar--mingled now with cries of ‘Hats off!’ and ‘Poor fellows!’ and,
from some specks in the great concourse, with a shriek or groan--burst
forth again. It was terrible to see--if any one in that distraction of
excitement could have seen--the world of eager eyes, all strained upon
the scaffold and the beam.
The hollow murmuring was heard within the jail as plainly as without.
The three were brought forth into the yard, together, as it resounded
through the air. They knew its import well.
‘D’ye hear?’ cried Hugh, undaunted by the sound. ‘They expect us!
I heard them gathering when I woke in the night, and turned over on
t’other side and fell asleep again. We shall see how they welcome the
hangman, now that it comes home to him. Ha, ha, ha!’
The Ordinary coming up at this moment, reproved him for his indecent
mirth, and advised him to alter his demeanour.
‘And why, master?’ said Hugh. ‘Can I do better than bear it easily? YOU
bear it easily enough. Oh! never tell me,’ he cried, as the other would
have spoken, ‘for all your sad look and your solemn air, you think
little enough of it! They say you’re the best maker of lobster salads in
London. Ha, ha! I’ve heard that, you see, before now. Is it a good
one, this morning--is your hand in? How does the breakfast look? I hope
there’s enough, and to spare, for all this hungry company that’ll sit
down to it, when the sight’s over.’
‘I fear,’ observed the clergyman, shaking his head, ‘that you are
incorrigible.’
‘You’re right. I am,’ rejoined Hugh sternly. ‘Be no hypocrite, master!
You make a merry-making of this, every month; let me be merry, too. If
you want a frightened fellow there’s one that’ll suit you. Try your hand
upon him.’
He pointed, as he spoke, to Dennis, who, with his legs trailing on the
ground, was held between two men; and who trembled so, that all his
joints and limbs seemed racked by spasms. Turning from this wretched
spectacle, he called to Barnaby, who stood apart.
‘What cheer, Barnaby? Don’t be downcast, lad. Leave that to HIM.’
‘Bless you,’ cried Barnaby, stepping lightly towards him, ‘I’m not
frightened, Hugh. I’m quite happy. I wouldn’t desire to live now,
if they’d let me. Look at me! Am I afraid to die? Will they see ME
tremble?’
Hugh gazed for a moment at his face, on which there was a strange,
unearthly smile; and at his eye, which sparkled brightly; and
interposing between him and the Ordinary, gruffly whispered to the
latter:
‘I wouldn’t say much to him, master, if I was you. He may spoil your
appetite for breakfast, though you ARE used to it.’
He was the only one of the three who had washed or trimmed himself
that morning. Neither of the others had done so, since their doom was
pronounced. He still wore the broken peacock’s feathers in his hat; and
all his usual scraps of finery were carefully disposed about his person.
His kindling eye, his firm step, his proud and resolute bearing, might
have graced some lofty act of heroism; some voluntary sacrifice, born of
a noble cause and pure enthusiasm; rather than that felon’s death.
But all these things increased his guilt. They were mere assumptions.
The law had declared it so, and so it must be. The good minister had
been greatly shocked, not a quarter of an hour before, at his parting
with Grip. For one in his condition, to fondle a bird!--The yard was
filled with people; bluff civic functionaries, officers of justice,
soldiers, the curious in such matters, and guests who had been bidden as
to a wedding. Hugh looked about him, nodded gloomily to some person
in authority, who indicated with his hand in what direction he was to
proceed; and clapping Barnaby on the shoulder, passed out with the gait
of a lion.
They entered a large room, so near to the scaffold that the voices of
those who stood about it, could be plainly heard: some beseeching
the javelin-men to take them out of the crowd: others crying to those
behind, to stand back, for they were pressed to death, and suffocating
for want of air.
In the middle of this chamber, two smiths, with hammers, stood beside an
anvil. Hugh walked straight up to them, and set his foot upon it with a
sound as though it had been struck by a heavy weapon. Then, with folded
arms, he stood to have his irons knocked off: scowling haughtily round,
as those who were present eyed him narrowly and whispered to each other.
It took so much time to drag Dennis in, that this ceremony was over with
Hugh, and nearly over with Barnaby, before he appeared. He no sooner
came into the place he knew so well, however, and among faces with which
he was so familiar, than he recovered strength and sense enough to clasp
his hands and make a last appeal.
‘Gentlemen, good gentlemen,’ cried the abject creature, grovelling down
upon his knees, and actually prostrating himself upon the stone floor:
‘Governor, dear governor--honourable sheriffs--worthy gentlemen--have
mercy upon a wretched man that has served His Majesty, and the Law, and
Parliament, for so many years, and don’t--don’t let me die--because of a
mistake.’
‘Dennis,’ said the governor of the jail, ‘you know what the course
is, and that the order came with the rest. You know that we could do
nothing, even if we would.’
‘All I ask, sir,--all I want and beg, is time, to make it sure,’ cried
the trembling wretch, looking wildly round for sympathy. ‘The King and
Government can’t know it’s me; I’m sure they can’t know it’s me; or they
never would bring me to this dreadful slaughterhouse. They know my name,
but they don’t know it’s the same man. Stop my execution--for charity’s
sake stop my execution, gentlemen--till they can be told that I’ve
been hangman here, nigh thirty year. Will no one go and tell them?’ he
implored, clenching his hands and glaring round, and round, and round