Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty
The captain nodded. Then, throwing off his outer coat, he stood composed
in all his dignity, and eyed his follower over.
‘What news to-night?’ he asked, when he had looked into his very soul.
‘Nothing particular,’ replied the other, stretching himself--and he was
so long already that it was quite alarming to see him do it--‘how come
you to be so late?’
‘No matter,’ was all the captain deigned to say in answer. ‘Is the room
prepared?’
‘It is,’ replied the follower.
‘The comrade--is he here?’
‘Yes. And a sprinkling of the others--you hear ‘em?’
‘Playing skittles!’ said the captain moodily. ‘Light-hearted revellers!’
There was no doubt respecting the particular amusement in which these
heedless spirits were indulging, for even in the close and stifling
atmosphere of the vault, the noise sounded like distant thunder. It
certainly appeared, at first sight, a singular spot to choose, for that
or any other purpose of relaxation, if the other cellars answered to
the one in which this brief colloquy took place; for the floors were of
sodden earth, the walls and roof of damp bare brick tapestried with
the tracks of snails and slugs; the air was sickening, tainted, and
offensive. It seemed, from one strong flavour which was uppermost among
the various odours of the place, that it had, at no very distant period,
been used as a storehouse for cheeses; a circumstance which, while it
accounted for the greasy moisture that hung about it, was agreeably
suggestive of rats. It was naturally damp besides, and little trees of
fungus sprung from every mouldering corner.
The proprietor of this charming retreat, and owner of the ragged head
before mentioned--for he wore an old tie-wig as bare and frowzy as a
stunted hearth-broom--had by this time joined them; and stood a little
apart, rubbing his hands, wagging his hoary bristled chin, and smiling
in silence. His eyes were closed; but had they been wide open, it would
have been easy to tell, from the attentive expression of the face he
turned towards them--pale and unwholesome as might be expected in one
of his underground existence--and from a certain anxious raising and
quivering of the lids, that he was blind.
‘Even Stagg hath been asleep,’ said the long comrade, nodding towards
this person.
‘Sound, captain, sound!’ cried the blind man; ‘what does my noble
captain drink--is it brandy, rum, usquebaugh? Is it soaked gunpowder, or
blazing oil? Give it a name, heart of oak, and we’d get it for you, if
it was wine from a bishop’s cellar, or melted gold from King George’s
mint.’
‘See,’ said Mr Tappertit haughtily, ‘that it’s something strong, and
comes quick; and so long as you take care of that, you may bring it from
the devil’s cellar, if you like.’
‘Boldly said, noble captain!’ rejoined the blind man. ‘Spoken like the
‘Prentices’ Glory. Ha, ha! From the devil’s cellar! A brave joke! The
captain joketh. Ha, ha, ha!’
‘I’ll tell you what, my fine feller,’ said Mr Tappertit, eyeing the
host over as he walked to a closet, and took out a bottle and glass as
carelessly as if he had been in full possession of his sight, ‘if you
make that row, you’ll find that the captain’s very far from joking, and
so I tell you.’
‘He’s got his eyes on me!’ cried Stagg, stopping short on his way back,
and affecting to screen his face with the bottle. ‘I feel ‘em though I
can’t see ‘em. Take ‘em off, noble captain. Remove ‘em, for they pierce
like gimlets.’
Mr Tappertit smiled grimly at his comrade; and twisting out one more
look--a kind of ocular screw--under the influence of which the blind man
feigned to undergo great anguish and torture, bade him, in a softened
tone, approach, and hold his peace.
‘I obey you, captain,’ cried Stagg, drawing close to him and filling
out a bumper without spilling a drop, by reason that he held his little
finger at the brim of the glass, and stopped at the instant the liquor
touched it, ‘drink, noble governor. Death to all masters, life to all
‘prentices, and love to all fair damsels. Drink, brave general, and warm
your gallant heart!’
Mr Tappertit condescended to take the glass from his outstretched hand.
Stagg then dropped on one knee, and gently smoothed the calves of his
legs, with an air of humble admiration.
‘That I had but eyes!’ he cried, ‘to behold my captain’s symmetrical
proportions! That I had but eyes, to look upon these twin invaders of
domestic peace!’
‘Get out!’ said Mr Tappertit, glancing downward at his favourite limbs.
‘Go along, will you, Stagg!’
‘When I touch my own afterwards,’ cried the host, smiting them
reproachfully, ‘I hate ‘em. Comparatively speaking, they’ve no more
shape than wooden legs, beside these models of my noble captain’s.’
‘Yours!’ exclaimed Mr Tappertit. ‘No, I should think not. Don’t talk
about those precious old toothpicks in the same breath with mine; that’s
rather too much. Here. Take the glass. Benjamin. Lead on. To business!’
With these words, he folded his arms again; and frowning with a sullen
majesty, passed with his companion through a little door at the upper
end of the cellar, and disappeared; leaving Stagg to his private
meditations.
The vault they entered, strewn with sawdust and dimly lighted, was
between the outer one from which they had just come, and that in which
the skittle-players were diverting themselves; as was manifested by
the increased noise and clamour of tongues, which was suddenly stopped,
however, and replaced by a dead silence, at a signal from the long
comrade. Then, this young gentleman, going to a little cupboard,
returned with a thigh-bone, which in former times must have been part
and parcel of some individual at least as long as himself, and placed
the same in the hands of Mr Tappertit; who, receiving it as a sceptre
and staff of authority, cocked his three-cornered hat fiercely on the
top of his head, and mounted a large table, whereon a chair of state,
cheerfully ornamented with a couple of skulls, was placed ready for his
reception.
He had no sooner assumed this position, than another young gentleman
appeared, bearing in his arms a huge clasped book, who made him a
profound obeisance, and delivering it to the long comrade, advanced to
the table, and turning his back upon it, stood there Atlas-wise. Then,
the long comrade got upon the table too; and seating himself in a lower
chair than Mr Tappertit’s, with much state and ceremony, placed the
large book on the shoulders of their mute companion as deliberately as
if he had been a wooden desk, and prepared to make entries therein with
a pen of corresponding size.
When the long comrade had made these preparations, he looked towards Mr
Tappertit; and Mr Tappertit, flourishing the bone, knocked nine times
therewith upon one of the skulls. At the ninth stroke, a third young
gentleman emerged from the door leading to the skittle ground, and
bowing low, awaited his commands.
‘Prentice!’ said the mighty captain, ‘who waits without?’
The ‘prentice made answer that a stranger was in attendance, who claimed
admission into that secret society of ‘Prentice Knights, and a free
participation in their rights, privileges, and immunities. Thereupon
Mr Tappertit flourished the bone again, and giving the other skull a
prodigious rap on the nose, exclaimed ‘Admit him!’ At these dread words
the ‘prentice bowed once more, and so withdrew as he had come.
There soon appeared at the same door, two other ‘prentices, having
between them a third, whose eyes were bandaged, and who was attired in a
bag-wig, and a broad-skirted coat, trimmed with tarnished lace; and who
was girded with a sword, in compliance with the laws of the Institution
regulating the introduction of candidates, which required them to
assume this courtly dress, and kept it constantly in lavender, for
their convenience. One of the conductors of this novice held a rusty
blunderbuss pointed towards his ear, and the other a very ancient
sabre, with which he carved imaginary offenders as he came along in a
sanguinary and anatomical manner.
As this silent group advanced, Mr Tappertit fixed his hat upon his head.
The novice then laid his hand upon his breast and bent before him. When
he had humbled himself sufficiently, the captain ordered the bandage to
be removed, and proceeded to eye him over.
‘Ha!’ said the captain, thoughtfully, when he had concluded this ordeal.
‘Proceed.’
The long comrade read aloud as follows:--‘Mark Gilbert. Age, nineteen.
Bound to Thomas Curzon, hosier, Golden Fleece, Aldgate. Loves Curzon’s
daughter. Cannot say that Curzon’s daughter loves him. Should think it
probable. Curzon pulled his ears last Tuesday week.’
‘How!’ cried the captain, starting.
‘For looking at his daughter, please you,’ said the novice.
‘Write Curzon down, Denounced,’ said the captain. ‘Put a black cross
against the name of Curzon.’
‘So please you,’ said the novice, ‘that’s not the worst--he calls his
‘prentice idle dog, and stops his beer unless he works to his liking. He
gives Dutch cheese, too, eating Cheshire, sir, himself; and Sundays out,
are only once a month.’
‘This,’ said Mr Tappert gravely, ‘is a flagrant case. Put two black
crosses to the name of Curzon.’
‘If the society,’ said the novice, who was an ill-looking, one-sided,
shambling lad, with sunken eyes set close together in his head--‘if the
society would burn his house down--for he’s not insured--or beat him
as he comes home from his club at night, or help me to carry off his
daughter, and marry her at the Fleet, whether she gave consent or no--’
Mr Tappertit waved his grizzly truncheon as an admonition to him not to
interrupt, and ordered three black crosses to the name of Curzon.
‘Which means,’ he said in gracious explanation, ‘vengeance, complete and
terrible. ‘Prentice, do you love the Constitution?’
To which the novice (being to that end instructed by his attendant
sponsors) replied ‘I do!’
‘The Church, the State, and everything established--but the masters?’
quoth the captain.
Again the novice said ‘I do.’
Having said it, he listened meekly to the captain, who in an address
prepared for such occasions, told him how that under that same
Constitution (which was kept in a strong box somewhere, but where
exactly he could not find out, or he would have endeavoured to procure a
copy of it), the ‘prentices had, in times gone by, had frequent holidays
of right, broken people’s heads by scores, defied their masters, nay,
even achieved some glorious murders in the streets, which privileges
had gradually been wrested from them, and in all which noble aspirations
they were now restrained; how the degrading checks imposed upon them
were unquestionably attributable to the innovating spirit of the times,
and how they united therefore to resist all change, except such change
as would restore those good old English customs, by which they would
stand or fall. After illustrating the wisdom of going backward, by
reference to that sagacious fish, the crab, and the not unfrequent
practice of the mule and donkey, he described their general objects;
which were briefly vengeance on their Tyrant Masters (of whose grievous
and insupportable oppression no ‘prentice could entertain a moment’s
doubt) and the restoration, as aforesaid, of their ancient rights and
holidays; for neither of which objects were they now quite ripe, being
barely twenty strong, but which they pledged themselves to pursue with
fire and sword when needful. Then he described the oath which every
member of that small remnant of a noble body took, and which was of a
dreadful and impressive kind; binding him, at the bidding of his chief,
to resist and obstruct the Lord Mayor, sword-bearer, and chaplain; to
despise the authority of the sheriffs; and to hold the court of aldermen