Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty
of his boisterous voice had died away; ‘was there ever such a game boy!
Why, I mean to say, brothers, that if Muster Gashford had gone a hundred
mile and got together fifty men of the common run, they wouldn’t have
been worth this one.’
The greater part of the company implicitly subscribed to this
opinion, and testified their faith in Hugh by nods and looks of great
significance. Mr Tappertit sat and contemplated him for a long time in
silence, as if he suspended his judgment; then drew a little nearer to
him, and eyed him over more carefully; then went close up to him, and
took him apart into a dark corner.
‘I say,’ he began, with a thoughtful brow, ‘haven’t I seen you before?’
‘It’s like you may,’ said Hugh, in his careless way. ‘I don’t know;
shouldn’t wonder.’
‘No, but it’s very easily settled,’ returned Sim. ‘Look at me. Did you
ever see ME before? You wouldn’t be likely to forget it, you know, if
you ever did. Look at me. Don’t be afraid; I won’t do you any harm. Take
a good look--steady now.’
The encouraging way in which Mr Tappertit made this request, and
coupled it with an assurance that he needn’t be frightened, amused Hugh
mightily--so much indeed, that he saw nothing at all of the small man
before him, through closing his eyes in a fit of hearty laughter, which
shook his great broad sides until they ached again.
‘Come!’ said Mr Tappertit, growing a little impatient under this
disrespectful treatment. ‘Do you know me, feller?’
‘Not I,’ cried Hugh. ‘Ha ha ha! Not I! But I should like to.’
‘And yet I’d have wagered a seven-shilling piece,’ said Mr Tappertit,
folding his arms, and confronting him with his legs wide apart and
firmly planted on the ground, ‘that you once were hostler at the
Maypole.’
Hugh opened his eyes on hearing this, and looked at him in great
surprise.
‘--And so you were, too,’ said Mr Tappertit, pushing him away with a
condescending playfulness. ‘When did MY eyes ever deceive--unless it was
a young woman! Don’t you know me now?’
‘Why it an’t--’ Hugh faltered.
‘An’t it?’ said Mr Tappertit. ‘Are you sure of that? You remember G.
Varden, don’t you?’
Certainly Hugh did, and he remembered D. Varden too; but that he didn’t
tell him.
‘You remember coming down there, before I was out of my time, to ask
after a vagabond that had bolted off, and left his disconsolate father a
prey to the bitterest emotions, and all the rest of it--don’t you?’ said
Mr Tappertit.
‘Of course I do!’ cried Hugh. ‘And I saw you there.’
‘Saw me there!’ said Mr Tappertit. ‘Yes, I should think you did see
me there. The place would be troubled to go on without me. Don’t you
remember my thinking you liked the vagabond, and on that account going
to quarrel with you; and then finding you detested him worse than
poison, going to drink with you? Don’t you remember that?’
‘To be sure!’ cried Hugh.
‘Well! and are you in the same mind now?’ said Mr Tappertit.
‘Yes!’ roared Hugh.
‘You speak like a man,’ said Mr Tappertit, ‘and I’ll shake hands with
you.’ With these conciliatory expressions he suited the action to the
word; and Hugh meeting his advances readily, they performed the ceremony
with a show of great heartiness.
‘I find,’ said Mr Tappertit, looking round on the assembled guests,
‘that brother What’s-his-name and I are old acquaintance.--You never
heard anything more of that rascal, I suppose, eh?’
‘Not a syllable,’ replied Hugh. ‘I never want to. I don’t believe I ever
shall. He’s dead long ago, I hope.’
‘It’s to be hoped, for the sake of mankind in general and the happiness
of society, that he is,’ said Mr Tappertit, rubbing his palm upon his
legs, and looking at it between whiles. ‘Is your other hand at all
cleaner? Much the same. Well, I’ll owe you another shake. We’ll suppose
it done, if you’ve no objection.’
Hugh laughed again, and with such thorough abandonment to his mad
humour, that his limbs seemed dislocated, and his whole frame in danger
of tumbling to pieces; but Mr Tappertit, so far from receiving this
extreme merriment with any irritation, was pleased to regard it with the
utmost favour, and even to join in it, so far as one of his gravity and
station could, with any regard to that decency and decorum which men in
high places are expected to maintain.
Mr Tappertit did not stop here, as many public characters might have
done, but calling up his brace of lieutenants, introduced Hugh to them
with high commendation; declaring him to be a man who, at such times as
those in which they lived, could not be too much cherished. Further, he
did him the honour to remark, that he would be an acquisition of which
even the United Bulldogs might be proud; and finding, upon sounding him,
that he was quite ready and willing to enter the society (for he was
not at all particular, and would have leagued himself that night with
anything, or anybody, for any purpose whatsoever), caused the necessary
preliminaries to be gone into upon the spot. This tribute to his great
merit delighted no man more than Mr Dennis, as he himself proclaimed
with several rare and surprising oaths; and indeed it gave unmingled
satisfaction to the whole assembly.
‘Make anything you like of me!’ cried Hugh, flourishing the can he had
emptied more than once. ‘Put me on any duty you please. I’m your man.
I’ll do it. Here’s my captain--here’s my leader. Ha ha ha! Let him
give me the word of command, and I’ll fight the whole Parliament House
single-handed, or set a lighted torch to the King’s Throne itself!’ With
that, he smote Mr Tappertit on the back, with such violence that his
little body seemed to shrink into a mere nothing; and roared again until
the very foundlings near at hand were startled in their beds.
In fact, a sense of something whimsical in their companionship seemed to
have taken entire possession of his rude brain. The bare fact of being
patronised by a great man whom he could have crushed with one hand,
appeared in his eyes so eccentric and humorous, that a kind of ferocious
merriment gained the mastery over him, and quite subdued his brutal
nature. He roared and roared again; toasted Mr Tappertit a hundred
times; declared himself a Bulldog to the core; and vowed to be faithful
to him to the last drop of blood in his veins.
All these compliments Mr Tappertit received as matters of
course--flattering enough in their way, but entirely attributable to his
vast superiority. His dignified self-possession only delighted Hugh the
more; and in a word, this giant and dwarf struck up a friendship which
bade fair to be of long continuance, as the one held it to be his right
to command, and the other considered it an exquisite pleasantry to
obey. Nor was Hugh by any means a passive follower, who scrupled to act
without precise and definite orders; for when Mr Tappertit mounted on an
empty cask which stood by way of rostrum in the room, and volunteered a
speech upon the alarming crisis then at hand, he placed himself beside
the orator, and though he grinned from ear to ear at every word he said,
threw out such expressive hints to scoffers in the management of his
cudgel, that those who were at first the most disposed to interrupt,
became remarkably attentive, and were the loudest in their approbation.
It was not all noise and jest, however, at The Boot, nor were the whole
party listeners to the speech. There were some men at the other end of
the room (which was a long, low-roofed chamber) in earnest conversation
all the time; and when any of this group went out, fresh people were
sure to come in soon afterwards and sit down in their places, as though
the others had relieved them on some watch or duty; which it was pretty
clear they did, for these changes took place by the clock, at intervals
of half an hour. These persons whispered very much among themselves,
and kept aloof, and often looked round, as jealous of their speech being
overheard; some two or three among them entered in books what seemed
to be reports from the others; when they were not thus employed one of
them would turn to the newspapers which were strewn upon the table,
and from the St James’s Chronicle, the Herald, Chronicle, or Public
Advertiser, would read to the rest in a low voice some passage having
reference to the topic in which they were all so deeply interested. But
the great attraction was a pamphlet called The Thunderer, which espoused
their own opinions, and was supposed at that time to emanate directly
from the Association. This was always in request; and whether read
aloud, to an eager knot of listeners, or by some solitary man, was
certain to be followed by stormy talking and excited looks.
In the midst of all his merriment, and admiration of his captain, Hugh
was made sensible by these and other tokens, of the presence of an air
of mystery, akin to that which had so much impressed him out of doors.
It was impossible to discard a sense that something serious was going
on, and that under the noisy revel of the public-house, there lurked
unseen and dangerous matter. Little affected by this, however, he was
perfectly satisfied with his quarters and would have remained there till
morning, but that his conductor rose soon after midnight, to go home; Mr
Tappertit following his example, left him no excuse to stay. So they all
three left the house together: roaring a No-Popery song until the fields
resounded with the dismal noise.
‘Cheer up, captain!’ cried Hugh, when they had roared themselves out of
breath. ‘Another stave!’
Mr Tappertit, nothing loath, began again; and so the three went
staggering on, arm-in-arm, shouting like madmen, and defying the watch
with great valour. Indeed this did not require any unusual bravery or
boldness, as the watchmen of that time, being selected for the office
on account of excessive age and extraordinary infirmity, had a custom
of shutting themselves up tight in their boxes on the first symptoms
of disturbance, and remaining there until they disappeared. In these
proceedings, Mr Dennis, who had a gruff voice and lungs of considerable
power, distinguished himself very much, and acquired great credit with
his two companions.
‘What a queer fellow you are!’ said Mr Tappertit. ‘You’re so precious
sly and close. Why don’t you ever tell what trade you’re of?’
‘Answer the captain instantly,’ cried Hugh, beating his hat down on his
head; ‘why don’t you ever tell what trade you’re of?’
‘I’m of as gen-teel a calling, brother, as any man in England--as light
a business as any gentleman could desire.’
‘Was you ‘prenticed to it?’ asked Mr Tappertit.
‘No. Natural genius,’ said Mr Dennis. ‘No ‘prenticing. It come
by natur’. Muster Gashford knows my calling. Look at that hand of
mine--many and many a job that hand has done, with a neatness and
dexterity, never known afore. When I look at that hand,’ said Mr
Dennis, shaking it in the air, ‘and remember the helegant bits of work
it has turned off, I feel quite molloncholy to think it should ever grow
old and feeble. But sich is life!’
He heaved a deep sigh as he indulged in these reflections, and putting
his fingers with an absent air on Hugh’s throat, and particularly under
his left ear, as if he were studying the anatomical development of that
part of his frame, shook his head in a despondent manner and actually
shed tears.
‘You’re a kind of artist, I suppose--eh!’ said Mr Tappertit.
‘Yes,’ rejoined Dennis; ‘yes--I may call myself a artist--a fancy
workman--art improves natur’--that’s my motto.’
‘And what do you call this?’ said Mr Tappertit taking his stick out of
his hand.
‘That’s my portrait atop,’ Dennis replied; ‘d’ye think it’s like?’
‘Why--it’s a little too handsome,’ said Mr Tappertit. ‘Who did it? You?’
‘I!’ repeated Dennis, gazing fondly on his image. ‘I wish I had the