Chapter 43
Next morning brought no satisfaction to the locksmith's thoughts,nor next day, nor the next, nor many others. Often after nightfall heentered the street, and turned his eyes towards the well-known house;and as surely as he did so, there was the solitary light, still gleamingthrough the crevices of the window-shutter, while all within wasmotionless, noiseless, cheerless, as a grave. Unwilling to hazard MrHaredale's favour by disobeying his strict injunction, he never venturedto knock at the door or to make his presence known in any way. Butwhenever strong interest and curiosity attracted him to the spot--whichwas not seldom--the light was always there.
If he could have known what passed within, the knowledge would haveyielded him no clue to this mysterious vigil. At twilight, Mr Haredaleshut himself up, and at daybreak he came forth. He never missed a night,always came and went alone, and never varied his proceedings in theleast degree.
The manner of his watch was this. At dusk, he entered the house in thesame way as when the locksmith bore him company, kindled a light, wentthrough the rooms, and narrowly examined them. That done, he returned tothe chamber on the ground-floor, and laying his sword and pistols on thetable, sat by it until morning.
He usually had a book with him, and often tried to read, but never fixedhis eyes or thoughts upon it for five minutes together. The slightestnoise without doors, caught his ear; a step upon the pavement seemed tomake his heart leap.
He was not without some refreshment during the long lonely hours;generally carrying in his pocket a sandwich of bread and meat, and asmall flask of wine. The latter diluted with large quantities of water,he drank in a heated, feverish way, as though his throat were dried; buthe scarcely ever broke his fast, by so much as a crumb of bread.
If this voluntary sacrifice of sleep and comfort had its origin, as thelocksmith on consideration was disposed to think, in any superstitiousexpectation of the fulfilment of a dream or vision connected with theevent on which he had brooded for so many years, and if he waited forsome ghostly visitor who walked abroad when men lay sleeping in theirbeds, he showed no trace of fear or wavering. His stern featuresexpressed inflexible resolution; his brows were puckered, and his lipscompressed, with deep and settled purpose; and when he started at anoise and listened, it was not with the start of fear but hope, andcatching up his sword as though the hour had come at last, he wouldclutch it in his tight-clenched hand, and listen with sparkling eyes andeager looks, until it died away.
These disappointments were numerous, for they ensued on almost everysound, but his constancy was not shaken. Still, every night he was athis post, the same stern, sleepless, sentinel; and still night passed,and morning dawned, and he must watch again.
This went on for weeks; he had taken a lodging at Vauxhall in whichto pass the day and rest himself; and from this place, when the tideserved, he usually came to London Bridge from Westminster by water, inorder that he might avoid the busy streets.
One evening, shortly before twilight, he came his accustomed road uponthe river's bank, intending to pass through Westminster Hall into PalaceYard, and there take boat to London Bridge as usual. There was a prettylarge concourse of people assembled round the Houses of Parliament,looking at the members as they entered and departed, and giving vent torather noisy demonstrations of approval or dislike, according to theirknown opinions. As he made his way among the throng, he heard once ortwice the No-Popery cry, which was then becoming pretty familiar to theears of most men; but holding it in very slight regard, and observingthat the idlers were of the lowest grade, he neither thought nor caredabout it, but made his way along, with perfect indifference.
There were many little knots and groups of persons in Westminster Hall:some few looking upward at its noble ceiling, and at the rays of eveninglight, tinted by the setting sun, which streamed in aslant throughits small windows, and growing dimmer by degrees, were quenched in thegathering gloom below; some, noisy passengers, mechanics going home fromwork, and otherwise, who hurried quickly through, waking the echoes withtheir voices, and soon darkening the small door in the distance, asthey passed into the street beyond; some, in busy conference together onpolitical or private matters, pacing slowly up and down with eyes thatsought the ground, and seeming, by their attitudes, to listen earnestlyfrom head to foot. Here, a dozen squabbling urchins made a very Babel inthe air; there, a solitary man, half clerk, half mendicant, paced up anddown with hungry dejection in his look and gait; at his elbow passedan errand-lad, swinging his basket round and round, and with his shrillwhistle riving the very timbers of the roof; while a more observantschoolboy, half-way through, pocketed his ball, and eyed the distantbeadle as he came looming on. It was that time of evening when, if youshut your eyes and open them again, the darkness of an hour appearsto have gathered in a second. The smooth-worn pavement, dusty withfootsteps, still called upon the lofty walls to reiterate the shuffleand the tread of feet unceasingly, save when the closing of some heavydoor resounded through the building like a clap of thunder, and drownedall other noises in its rolling sound.
Mr Haredale, glancing only at such of these groups as he passed nearestto, and then in a manner betokening that his thoughts were elsewhere,had nearly traversed the Hall, when two persons before him caught hisattention. One of these, a gentleman in elegant attire, carried in hishand a cane, which he twirled in a jaunty manner as he loitered on; theother, an obsequious, crouching, fawning figure, listened to whathe said--at times throwing in a humble word himself--and, with hisshoulders shrugged up to his ears, rubbed his hands submissively, oranswered at intervals by an inclination of the head, half-way between anod of acquiescence, and a bow of most profound respect.
In the abstract there was nothing very remarkable in this pair, forservility waiting on a handsome suit of clothes and a cane--not to speakof gold and silver sticks, or wands of office--is common enough. Butthere was that about the well-dressed man, yes, and about the otherlikewise, which struck Mr Haredale with no pleasant feeling. Hehesitated, stopped, and would have stepped aside and turned out of hispath, but at the moment, the other two faced about quickly, and stumbledupon him before he could avoid them.
The gentleman with the cane lifted his hat and had begun to tender anapology, which Mr Haredale had begun as hastily to acknowledge and walkaway, when he stopped short and cried, 'Haredale! Gad bless me, this isstrange indeed!'
'It is,' he returned impatiently; 'yes--a--'
'My dear friend,' cried the other, detaining him, 'why such great speed?One minute, Haredale, for the sake of old acquaintance.'
'I am in haste,' he said. 'Neither of us has sought this meeting. Let itbe a brief one. Good night!'
'Fie, fie!' replied Sir John (for it was he), 'how very churlish! Wewere speaking of you. Your name was on my lips--perhaps you heard memention it? No? I am sorry for that. I am really sorry.--You know ourfriend here, Haredale? This is really a most remarkable meeting!'
The friend, plainly very ill at ease, had made bold to press Sir John'sarm, and to give him other significant hints that he was desirous ofavoiding this introduction. As it did not suit Sir John's purpose,however, that it should be evaded, he appeared quite unconscious ofthese silent remonstrances, and inclined his hand towards him, as hespoke, to call attention to him more particularly.
The friend, therefore, had nothing for it, but to muster up thepleasantest smile he could, and to make a conciliatory bow, as MrHaredale turned his eyes upon him. Seeing that he was recognised, he putout his hand in an awkward and embarrassed manner, which was not mendedby its contemptuous rejection.
'Mr Gashford!' said Haredale, coldly. 'It is as I have heard then. Youhave left the darkness for the light, sir, and hate those whose opinionsyou formerly held, with all the bitterness of a renegade. You are anhonour, sir, to any cause. I wish the one you espouse at present, muchjoy of the acquisition it has made.'
The secretary rubbed his hands and bowed, as though he would disarmhis adversary by humbling himself before him. Sir John Chester
againexclaimed, with an air of great gaiety, 'Now, really, this is amost remarkable meeting!' and took a pinch of snuff with his usualself-possession.
'Mr Haredale,' said Gashford, stealthily raising his eyes, andletting them drop again when they met the other's steady gaze, 'is tooconscientious, too honourable, too manly, I am sure, to attach unworthymotives to an honest change of opinions, even though it implies a doubtof those he holds himself. Mr Haredale is too just, too generous, tooclear-sighted in his moral vision, to--'
'Yes, sir?' he rejoined with a sarcastic smile, finding the secretarystopped. 'You were saying'--
Gashford meekly shrugged his shoulders, and looking on the ground again,was silent.
'No, but let us really,' interposed Sir John at this juncture, 'let usreally, for a moment, contemplate the very remarkable character of thismeeting. Haredale, my dear friend, pardon me if I think you are notsufficiently impressed with its singularity. Here we stand, by noprevious appointment or arrangement, three old schoolfellows, inWestminster Hall; three old boarders in a remarkably dull and shadyseminary at Saint Omer's, where you, being Catholics and of necessityeducated out of England, were brought up; and where I, being a promisingyoung Protestant at that time, was sent to learn the French tongue froma native of Paris!'
'Add to the singularity, Sir John,' said Mr Haredale, 'that some of youProtestants of promise are at this moment leagued in yonder building, toprevent our having the surpassing and unheard-of privilege of teachingour children to read and write--here--in this land, where thousands ofus enter your service every year, and to preserve the freedom of which,we die in bloody battles abroad, in heaps: and that others of you, tothe number of some thousands as I learn, are led on to look on all menof my creed as wolves and beasts of prey, by this man Gashford. Addto it besides the bare fact that this man lives in society, walks thestreets in broad day--I was about to say, holds up his head, but that hedoes not--and it will be strange, and very strange, I grant you.'
'Oh! you are hard upon our friend,' replied Sir John, with an engagingsmile. 'You are really very hard upon our friend!'
'Let him go on, Sir John,' said Gashford, fumbling with his gloves. 'Lethim go on. I can make allowances, Sir John. I am honoured with yourgood opinion, and I can dispense with Mr Haredale's. Mr Haredale is asufferer from the penal laws, and I can't expect his favour.'
'You have so much of my favour, sir,' retorted Mr Haredale, with abitter glance at the third party in their conversation, 'that I amglad to see you in such good company. You are the essence of your greatAssociation, in yourselves.'
'Now, there you mistake,' said Sir John, in his most benignant way.'There--which is a most remarkable circumstance for a man of yourpunctuality and exactness, Haredale--you fall into error. I don't belongto the body; I have an immense respect for its members, but I don'tbelong to it; although I am, it is certainly true, the conscientiousopponent of your being relieved. I feel it my duty to be so; it is amost unfortunate necessity; and cost me a bitter struggle.--Will you trythis box? If you don't object to a trifling infusion of a very chastescent, you'll find its flavour exquisite.'
'I ask your pardon, Sir John,' said Mr Haredale, declining the profferwith a motion of his hand, 'for having ranked you among the humbleinstruments who are obvious and in all men's sight. I should have donemore justice to your genius. Men of your capacity plot in secrecy andsafety, and leave exposed posts to the duller wits.'
'Don't apologise, for the world,' replied Sir John sweetly; 'old friendslike you and I, may be allowed some freedoms, or the deuce is in it.'
Gashford, who had been very restless all this time, but had not oncelooked up, now turned to Sir John, and ventured to mutter something tothe effect that he must go, or my lord would perhaps be waiting.
'Don't distress yourself, good sir,' said Mr Haredale, 'I'll take myleave, and put you at your ease--' which he was about to do withoutceremony, when he was stayed by a buzz and murmur at the upper end ofthe hall, and, looking in that direction, saw Lord George Gordon comingin, with a crowd of people round him.
There was a lurking look of triumph, though very differently expressed,in the faces of his two companions, which made it a natural impulseon Mr Haredale's part not to give way before this leader, but to standthere while he passed. He drew himself up and, clasping his hands behindhim, looked on with a proud and scornful aspect, while Lord Georgeslowly advanced (for the press was great about him) towards the spotwhere they were standing.
He had left the House of Commons but that moment, and had come straightdown into the Hall, bringing with him, as his custom was, intelligenceof what had been said that night in reference to the Papists, and whatpetitions had been presented in their favour, and who had supportedthem, and when the bill was to be brought in, and when it would beadvisable to present their own Great Protestant petition. All this hetold the persons about him in a loud voice, and with great abundanceof ungainly gesture. Those who were nearest him made comments to eachother, and vented threats and murmurings; those who were outside thecrowd cried, 'Silence,' and 'Stand back,' or closed in upon the rest,endeavouring to make a forcible exchange of places: and so they camedriving on in a very disorderly and irregular way, as it is the mannerof a crowd to do.
When they were very near to where the secretary, Sir John, and MrHaredale stood, Lord George turned round and, making a few remarks ofa sufficiently violent and incoherent kind, concluded with the usualsentiment, and called for three cheers to back it. While these were inthe act of being given with great energy, he extricated himself fromthe press, and stepped up to Gashford's side. Both he and Sir John beingwell known to the populace, they fell back a little, and left the fourstanding together.
'Mr Haredale, Lord George,' said Sir John Chester, seeing that thenobleman regarded him with an inquisitive look. 'A Catholic gentlemanunfortunately--most unhappily a Catholic--but an esteemed acquaintanceof mine, and once of Mr Gashford's. My dear Haredale, this is LordGeorge Gordon.'
'I should have known that, had I been ignorant of his lordship'sperson,' said Mr Haredale. 'I hope there is but one gentleman in Englandwho, addressing an ignorant and excited throng, would speak of a largebody of his fellow-subjects in such injurious language as I heard thismoment. For shame, my lord, for shame!'
'I cannot talk to you, sir,' replied Lord George in a loud voice, andwaving his hand in a disturbed and agitated manner; 'we have nothing incommon.'
'We have much in common--many things--all that the Almighty gave us,'said Mr Haredale; 'and common charity, not to say common sense andcommon decency, should teach you to refrain from these proceedings. Ifevery one of those men had arms in their hands at this moment, as theyhave them in their heads, I would not leave this place without tellingyou that you disgrace your station.'
'I don't hear you, sir,' he replied in the same manner as before; 'Ican't hear you. It is indifferent to me what you say. Don't retort,Gashford,' for the secretary had made a show of wishing to do so; 'I canhold no communion with the worshippers of idols.'
As he said this, he glanced at Sir John, who lifted his hands andeyebrows, as if deploring the intemperate conduct of Mr Haredale, andsmiled in admiration of the crowd and of their leader.
'HE retort!' cried Haredale. 'Look you here, my lord. Do you know thisman?'
Lord George replied by laying his hand upon the shoulder of his cringingsecretary, and viewing him with a smile of confidence.
'This man,' said Mr Haredale, eyeing him from top to toe, 'who in hisboyhood was a thief, and has been from that time to this, a servile,false, and truckling knave: this man, who has crawled and crept throughlife, wounding the hands he licked, and biting those he fawned upon:this sycophant, who never knew what honour, truth, or courage meant; whorobbed his benefactor's daughter of her virtue, and married her to breakher heart, and did it, with stripes and cruelty: this creature, who haswhined at kitchen windows for the broken food, and begged for halfpenceat our chapel doors: this apostle of the faith, whose tender consciencecanno
t bear the altars where his vicious life was publicly denounced--Doyou know this man?'
'Oh, really--you are very, very hard upon our friend!' exclaimed SirJohn.
'Let Mr Haredale go on,' said Gashford, upon whose unwholesome face theperspiration had broken out during this speech, in blotches of wet; 'Idon't mind him, Sir John; it's quite as indifferent to me what he says,as it is to my lord. If he reviles my lord, as you have heard, Sir John,how can I hope to escape?'
'Is it not enough, my lord,' Mr Haredale continued, 'that I, as good agentleman as you, must hold my property, such as it is, by a trick atwhich the state connives because of these hard laws; and that we may notteach our youth in schools the common principles of right and wrong; butmust we be denounced and ridden by such men as this! Here is a man tohead your No-Popery cry! For shame. For shame!'
The infatuated nobleman had glanced more than once at Sir John Chester,as if to inquire whether there was any truth in these statementsconcerning Gashford, and Sir John had as often plainly answered by ashrug or look, 'Oh dear me! no.' He now said, in the same loud key, andin the same strange manner as before:
'I have nothing to say, sir, in reply, and no desire to hear anythingmore. I beg you won't obtrude your conversation, or these personalattacks, upon me. I shall not be deterred from doing my duty to mycountry and my countrymen, by any such attempts, whether they proceedfrom emissaries of the Pope or not, I assure you. Come, Gashford!'
They had walked on a few paces while speaking, and were now at theHall-door, through which they passed together. Mr Haredale, without anyleave-taking, turned away to the river stairs, which were close at hand,and hailed the only boatman who remained there.
But the throng of people--the foremost of whom had heard every wordthat Lord George Gordon said, and among all of whom the rumour had beenrapidly dispersed that the stranger was a Papist who was bearding himfor his advocacy of the popular cause--came pouring out pell-mell, and,forcing the nobleman, his secretary, and Sir John Chester on beforethem, so that they appeared to be at their head, crowded to the top ofthe stairs where Mr Haredale waited until the boat was ready, and therestood still, leaving him on a little clear space by himself.
They were not silent, however, though inactive. At first some indistinctmutterings arose among them, which were followed by a hiss or two, andthese swelled by degrees into a perfect storm. Then one voice said,'Down with the Papists!' and there was a pretty general cheer, butnothing more. After a lull of a few moments, one man cried out, 'Stonehim;' another, 'Duck him;' another, in a stentorian voice, 'No Popery!'This favourite cry the rest re-echoed, and the mob, which might havebeen two hundred strong, joined in a general shout.
Mr Haredale had stood calmly on the brink of the steps, until they madethis demonstration, when he looked round contemptuously, and walked ata slow pace down the stairs. He was pretty near the boat, when Gashford,as if without intention, turned about, and directly afterwards a greatstone was thrown by some hand, in the crowd, which struck him on thehead, and made him stagger like a drunken man.
The blood sprung freely from the wound, and trickled down his coat. Heturned directly, and rushing up the steps with a boldness and passionwhich made them all fall back, demanded:
'Who did that? Show me the man who hit me.'
Not a soul moved; except some in the rear who slunk off, and, escapingto the other side of the way, looked on like indifferent spectators.
'Who did that?' he repeated. 'Show me the man who did it. Dog, was ityou? It was your deed, if not your hand--I know you.'
He threw himself on Gashford as he said the words, and hurled him to theground. There was a sudden motion in the crowd, and some laid hands uponhim, but his sword was out, and they fell off again.
'My lord--Sir John,'--he cried, 'draw, one of you--you are responsiblefor this outrage, and I look to you. Draw, if you are gentlemen.' Withthat he struck Sir John upon the breast with the flat of his weapon,and with a burning face and flashing eyes stood upon his guard; alone,before them all.
For an instant, for the briefest space of time the mind can readilyconceive, there was a change in Sir John's smooth face, such as no manever saw there. The next moment, he stepped forward, and laid one handon Mr Haredale's arm, while with the other he endeavoured to appease thecrowd.
'My dear friend, my good Haredale, you are blinded with passion--it'svery natural, extremely natural--but you don't know friends from foes.'
'I know them all, sir, I can distinguish well--' he retorted, almost madwith rage. 'Sir John, Lord George--do you hear me? Are you cowards?'
'Never mind, sir,' said a man, forcing his way between and pushing himtowards the stairs with friendly violence, 'never mind asking that. ForGod's sake, get away. What CAN you do against this number? And there areas many more in the next street, who'll be round directly,'--indeed theybegan to pour in as he said the words--'you'd be giddy from that cut, inthe first heat of a scuffle. Now do retire, sir, or take my word for ityou'll be worse used than you would be if every man in the crowd was awoman, and that woman Bloody Mary. Come, sir, make haste--as quick asyou can.'
Mr Haredale, who began to turn faint and sick, felt how sensiblethis advice was, and descended the steps with his unknown friend'sassistance. John Grueby (for John it was) helped him into the boat, andgiving her a shove off, which sent her thirty feet into the tide, badethe waterman pull away like a Briton; and walked up again as composedlyas if he had just landed.
There was at first a slight disposition on the part of the mob to resentthis interference; but John looking particularly strong and cool, andwearing besides Lord George's livery, they thought better of it, andcontented themselves with sending a shower of small missiles after theboat, which plashed harmlessly in the water; for she had by this timecleared the bridge, and was darting swiftly down the centre of thestream.
From this amusement, they proceeded to giving Protestant knocks at thedoors of private houses, breaking a few lamps, and assaulting some strayconstables. But, it being whispered that a detachment of Life Guards hadbeen sent for, they took to their heels with great expedition, and leftthe street quite clear.