Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty

  Chapter 77

  The time wore on. The noises in the streets became less frequent bydegrees, until silence was scarcely broken save by the bells in churchtowers, marking the progress--softer and more stealthy while the cityslumbered--of that Great Watcher with the hoary head, who never sleepsor rests. In the brief interval of darkness and repose which feverishtowns enjoy, all busy sounds were hushed; and those who awoke fromdreams lay listening in their beds, and longed for dawn, and wished thedead of the night were past.

  Into the street outside the jail's main wall, workmen came straggling atthis solemn hour, in groups of two or three, and meeting in the centre,cast their tools upon the ground and spoke in whispers. Others soonissued from the jail itself, bearing on their shoulders planks andbeams: these materials being all brought forth, the rest bestirredthemselves, and the dull sound of hammers began to echo through thestillness.

  Here and there among this knot of labourers, one, with a lantern ora smoky link, stood by to light his fellows at their work; and by itsdoubtful aid, some might be dimly seen taking up the pavement of theroad, while others held great upright posts, or fixed them in the holesthus made for their reception. Some dragged slowly on, towards the rest,an empty cart, which they brought rumbling from the prison-yard; whileothers erected strong barriers across the street. All were busilyengaged. Their dusky figures moving to and fro, at that unusual hour,so active and so silent, might have been taken for those of shadowycreatures toiling at midnight on some ghostly unsubstantial work, which,like themselves, would vanish with the first gleam of day, and leave butmorning mist and vapour.

  While it was yet dark, a few lookers-on collected, who had plainly comethere for the purpose and intended to remain: even those who had to passthe spot on their way to some other place, lingered, and lingered yet,as though the attraction of that were irresistible. Meanwhile the noiseof saw and mallet went on briskly, mingled with the clattering of boardson the stone pavement of the road, and sometimes with the workmen'svoices as they called to one another. Whenever the chimes of theneighbouring church were heard--and that was every quarter of an hour--astrange sensation, instantaneous and indescribable, but perfectlyobvious, seemed to pervade them all.

  Gradually, a faint brightness appeared in the east, and the air, whichhad been very warm all through the night, felt cool and chilly. Thoughthere was no daylight yet, the darkness was diminished, and the starslooked pale. The prison, which had been a mere black mass with littleshape or form, put on its usual aspect; and ever and anon a solitarywatchman could be seen upon its roof, stopping to look down upon thepreparations in the street. This man, from forming, as it were, a partof the jail, and knowing or being supposed to know all that was passingwithin, became an object of as much interest, and was as eagerly lookedfor, and as awfully pointed out, as if he had been a spirit.

  By and by, the feeble light grew stronger, and the houses with theirsignboards and inscriptions, stood plainly out, in the dull greymorning. Heavy stage waggons crawled from the inn-yard opposite; andtravellers peeped out; and as they rolled sluggishly away, cast manya backward look towards the jail. And now, the sun's first beams cameglancing into the street; and the night's work, which, in its variousstages and in the varied fancies of the lookers-on had taken a hundredshapes, wore its own proper form--a scaffold, and a gibbet.

  As the warmth of the cheerful day began to shed itself upon the scantycrowd, the murmur of tongues was heard, shutters were thrown open,and blinds drawn up, and those who had slept in rooms over against theprison, where places to see the execution were let at high prices, rosehastily from their beds. In some of the houses, people were busy takingout the window-sashes for the better accommodation of spectators; inothers, the spectators were already seated, and beguiling the time withcards, or drink, or jokes among themselves. Some had purchased seatsupon the house-tops, and were already crawling to their stations fromparapet and garret-window. Some were yet bargaining for good places, andstood in them in a state of indecision: gazing at the slowly-swellingcrowd, and at the workmen as they rested listlessly against thescaffold--affecting to listen with indifference to the proprietor'seulogy of the commanding view his house afforded, and the surpassingcheapness of his terms.

  A fairer morning never shone. From the roofs and upper stories of thesebuildings, the spires of city churches and the great cathedral dome werevisible, rising up beyond the prison, into the blue sky, and clad in thecolour of light summer clouds, and showing in the clear atmosphere theirevery scrap of tracery and fretwork, and every niche and loophole. Allwas 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 sunforbore to look upon it.

  But it was better, grim and sombre in the shade, than when, the daybeing more advanced, it stood confessed in the full glare and glory ofthe sun, with its black paint blistering, and its nooses dangling in thelight like loathsome garlands. It was better in the solitude and gloomof midnight with a few forms clustering about it, than in the freshnessand the stir of morning: the centre of an eager crowd. It was betterhaunting the street like a spectre, when men were in their beds, andinfluencing perchance the city's dreams, than braving the broad day, andthrusting its obscene presence upon their waking senses.

  Five o'clock had struck--six--seven--and eight. Along the two mainstreets 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 thethrong, and clattered onward in the same direction. Some of thesewhich were public conveyances and had come from a short distance in thecountry, stopped; and the driver pointed to the gibbet with his whip,though he might have spared himself the pains, for the heads of all thepassengers were turned that way without his help, and the coach-windowswere stuck full of staring eyes. In some of the carts and waggons, womenmight be seen, glancing fearfully at the same unsightly thing; and evenlittle children were held up above the people's heads to see what kindof a toy a gallows was, and learn how men were hanged.

  Two rioters were to die before the prison, who had been concerned inthe 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 beenindifferently kept all night by constables. Through this, anothercart was brought (the one already mentioned had been employed in theconstruction of the scaffold), and wheeled up to the prison-gate. Thesepreparations made, the soldiers stood at ease; the officers loungedto and fro, in the alley they had made, or talked together at thescaffold's foot; and the concourse, which had been rapidly augmentingfor some hours, and still received additions every minute, waited withan 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, savewhen 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 hourapproached, a buzz and hum arose, which, deepening every moment, soonswelled into a roar, and seemed to fill the air. No words or even voicescould be distinguished in this clamour, nor did they speak much to eachother; though such as were better informed upon the topic than the rest,would tell their neighbours, perhaps, that they might know the hangmanwhen he came out, by his being the shorter one: and that the man whowas to suffer with him was named Hugh: and that it was Barnaby Rudge whowould be hanged in Bloomsbury Square.

  The hum grew, as the time drew near, so loud, that those who were at thewindows could not hear the church-clock strike, though it was close athand. Nor had they any need to hear it, either, for they could see itin the people's faces. So surely as another quarter chimed, there wasa movement in the crowd--as if something had passed over it--as if thelight upon them had been changed--in which the f
act was readable as on abrazen dial, figured by a giant's hand.

  Three quarters past eleven! The murmur now was deafening, yet every manseemed mute. Look where you would among the crowd, you saw strained eyesand lips compressed; it would have been difficult for the most vigilantobserver to point this way or that, and say that yonder man had criedout. It were as easy to detect the motion of lips in a sea-shell.

  Three quarters past eleven! Many spectators who had retired from thewindows, came back refreshed, as though their watch had just begun.Those who had fallen asleep, roused themselves; and every person in thecrowd made one last effort to better his position--which caused a pressagainst the sturdy barriers that made them bend and yield like twigs.The officers, who until now had kept together, fell into their severalpositions, and gave the words of command. Swords were drawn, musketsshouldered, 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 harnessedto the cart at the prison-door. Then, a profound silence replaced thetumult that had so long been gathering, and a breathless pause ensued.Every window was now choked up with heads; the house-tops teemed withpeople--clinging to chimneys, peering over gable-ends, and holding onwhere the sudden loosening of any brick or stone would dash them downinto the street. The church tower, the church roof, the church yard,the prison leads, the very water-spouts and lampposts--every inch ofroom--swarmed with human life.

  At the first stroke of twelve the prison-bell began to toll. Then theroar--mingled now with cries of 'Hats off!' and 'Poor fellows!' and,from some specks in the great concourse, with a shriek or groan--burstforth again. It was terrible to see--if any one in that distraction ofexcitement could have seen--the world of eager eyes, all strained uponthe 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 resoundedthrough 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 ont'other side and fell asleep again. We shall see how they welcome thehangman, now that it comes home to him. Ha, ha, ha!'

  The Ordinary coming up at this moment, reproved him for his indecentmirth, and advised him to alter his demeanour.

  'And why, master?' said Hugh. 'Can I do better than bear it easily? YOUbear it easily enough. Oh! never tell me,' he cried, as the other wouldhave spoken, 'for all your sad look and your solemn air, you thinklittle enough of it! They say you're the best maker of lobster salads inLondon. Ha, ha! I've heard that, you see, before now. Is it a goodone, this morning--is your hand in? How does the breakfast look? I hopethere's enough, and to spare, for all this hungry company that'll sitdown to it, when the sight's over.'

  'I fear,' observed the clergyman, shaking his head, 'that you areincorrigible.'

  '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. Ifyou want a frightened fellow there's one that'll suit you. Try your handupon him.'

  He pointed, as he spoke, to Dennis, who, with his legs trailing on theground, was held between two men; and who trembled so, that all hisjoints and limbs seemed racked by spasms. Turning from this wretchedspectacle, 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 notfrightened, 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 MEtremble?'

  Hugh gazed for a moment at his face, on which there was a strange,unearthly smile; and at his eye, which sparkled brightly; andinterposing between him and the Ordinary, gruffly whispered to thelatter:

  'I wouldn't say much to him, master, if I was you. He may spoil yourappetite for breakfast, though you ARE used to it.'

  He was the only one of the three who had washed or trimmed himselfthat morning. Neither of the others had done so, since their doom waspronounced. He still wore the broken peacock's feathers in his hat; andall his usual scraps of finery were carefully disposed about his person.His kindling eye, his firm step, his proud and resolute bearing, mighthave graced some lofty act of heroism; some voluntary sacrifice, born ofa 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 hadbeen greatly shocked, not a quarter of an hour before, at his partingwith Grip. For one in his condition, to fondle a bird!--The yard wasfilled with people; bluff civic functionaries, officers of justice,soldiers, the curious in such matters, and guests who had been bidden asto a wedding. Hugh looked about him, nodded gloomily to some personin authority, who indicated with his hand in what direction he was toproceed; and clapping Barnaby on the shoulder, passed out with the gaitof a lion.

  They entered a large room, so near to the scaffold that the voices ofthose who stood about it, could be plainly heard: some beseechingthe javelin-men to take them out of the crowd: others crying to thosebehind, to stand back, for they were pressed to death, and suffocatingfor want of air.

  In the middle of this chamber, two smiths, with hammers, stood beside ananvil. Hugh walked straight up to them, and set his foot upon it with asound as though it had been struck by a heavy weapon. Then, with foldedarms, 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 withHugh, and nearly over with Barnaby, before he appeared. He no soonercame into the place he knew so well, however, and among faces with whichhe was so familiar, than he recovered strength and sense enough to clasphis hands and make a last appeal.

  'Gentlemen, good gentlemen,' cried the abject creature, grovelling downupon his knees, and actually prostrating himself upon the stone floor:'Governor, dear governor--honourable sheriffs--worthy gentlemen--havemercy upon a wretched man that has served His Majesty, and the Law, andParliament, for so many years, and don't--don't let me die--because of amistake.'

  'Dennis,' said the governor of the jail, 'you know what the courseis, and that the order came with the rest. You know that we could donothing, even if we would.'

  'All I ask, sir,--all I want and beg, is time, to make it sure,' criedthe trembling wretch, looking wildly round for sympathy. 'The King andGovernment can't know it's me; I'm sure they can't know it's me; or theynever 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'ssake stop my execution, gentlemen--till they can be told that I'vebeen hangman here, nigh thirty year. Will no one go and tell them?' heimplored, clenching his hands and glaring round, and round, and roundagain--'will no charitable person go and tell them!'

  'Mr Akerman,' said a gentleman who stood by, after a moment's pause,'since it may possibly produce in this unhappy man a better frame ofmind, even at this last minute, let me assure him that he was well knownto have been the hangman, when his sentence was considered.'

  '--But perhaps they think on that account that the punishment's not sogreat,' cried the criminal, shuffling towards this speaker on his knees,and holding up his folded hands; 'whereas it's worse, it's worse ahundred times, to me than any man. Let them know that, sir. Let themknow that. They've made it worse to me by giving me so much to do. Stopmy execution till they know that!'

  The governor beckoned with his hand, and the two men, who had supportedhim before, approached. He uttered a piercing cry:

  'Wait! Wait. Only a moment--only one moment more! Give me a last chanceof reprieve. One of us three is to go to Bloomsbury Square. Let me bethe one. It may come in that time; it's sure to come. In the Lord's namelet me be sent to Bloomsbury Square. Don't hang me here. It's murder.'


  They took him to the anvil: but even then he could be heard above theclinking of the smiths' hammers, and the hoarse raging of the crowd,crying that he knew of Hugh's birth--that his father was living, andwas a gentleman of influence and rank--that he had family secrets in hispossession--that he could tell nothing unless they gave him time, butmust die with them on his mind; and he continued to rave in this sortuntil his voice failed him, and he sank down a mere heap of clothesbetween the two attendants.

  It was at this moment that the clock struck the first stroke of twelve,and the bell began to toll. The various officers, with the two sheriffsat their head, moved towards the door. All was ready when the last chimecame upon the ear.

  They told Hugh this, and asked if he had anything to say.

  'To say!' he cried. 'Not I. I'm ready.--Yes,' he added, as his eye fellupon Barnaby, 'I have a word to say, too. Come hither, lad.'

  There was, for the moment, something kind, and even tender, strugglingin his fierce aspect, as he wrung his poor companion by the hand.

  'I'll say this,' he cried, looking firmly round, 'that if I had tenlives to lose, and the loss of each would give me ten times the agonyof the hardest death, I'd lay them all down--ay, I would, though yougentlemen may not believe it--to save this one. This one,' he added,wringing his hand again, 'that will be lost through me.'

  'Not through you,' said the idiot, mildly. 'Don't say that. You werenot to blame. You have always been very good to me.--Hugh, we shall knowwhat makes the stars shine, NOW!'

  'I took him from her in a reckless mood, and didn't think what harmwould come of it,' said Hugh, laying his hand upon his head, andspeaking in a lower voice. 'I ask her pardon; and his.--Look here,' headded roughly, in his former tone. 'You see this lad?'

  They murmured 'Yes,' and seemed to wonder why he asked.

  'That gentleman yonder--' pointing to the clergyman--'has often in thelast few days spoken to me of faith, and strong belief. You see whatI am--more brute than man, as I have been often told--but I had faithenough to believe, and did believe as strongly as any of you gentlemencan believe anything, that this one life would be spared. See what heis!--Look at him!'

  Barnaby had moved towards the door, and stood beckoning him to follow.

  'If this was not faith, and strong belief!' cried Hugh, raising hisright arm aloft, and looking upward like a savage prophet whom the nearapproach of Death had filled with inspiration, 'where are they! Whatelse should teach me--me, born as I was born, and reared as I havebeen reared--to hope for any mercy in this hardened, cruel, unrelentingplace! Upon these human shambles, I, who never raised this hand inprayer till now, call down the wrath of God! On that black tree, ofwhich I am the ripened fruit, I do invoke the curse of all its victims,past, and present, and to come. On the head of that man, who, in hisconscience, owns me for his son, I leave the wish that he may neversicken on his bed of down, but die a violent death as I do now, and havethe night-wind for his only mourner. To this I say, Amen, amen!'

  His arm fell downward by his side; he turned; and moved towards themwith a steady step, the man he had been before.

  'There is nothing more?' said the governor.

  Hugh motioned Barnaby not to come near him (though without looking inthe direction where he stood) and answered, 'There is nothing more.'

  'Move forward!'

  '--Unless,' said Hugh, glancing hurriedly back,--'unless any person herehas a fancy for a dog; and not then, unless he means to use him well.There's one, belongs to me, at the house I came from, and it wouldn'tbe easy to find a better. He'll whine at first, but he'll soon get overthat.--You wonder that I think about a dog just now,' he added, with akind of laugh. 'If any man deserved it of me half as well, I'd think ofHIM.'

  He spoke no more, but moved onward in his place, with a careless air,though listening at the same time to the Service for the Dead, withsomething between sullen attention, and quickened curiosity. As soon ashe had passed the door, his miserable associate was carried out; and thecrowd beheld the rest.

  Barnaby would have mounted the steps at the same time--indeed he wouldhave gone before them, but in both attempts he was restrained, as hewas to undergo the sentence elsewhere. In a few minutes the sheriffsreappeared, the same procession was again formed, and they passedthrough various rooms and passages to another door--that at which thecart was waiting. He held down his head to avoid seeing what he knew hiseyes must otherwise encounter, and took his seat sorrowfully,--and yetwith something of a childish pride and pleasure,--in the vehicle. Theofficers fell into their places at the sides, in front and in the rear;the sheriffs' carriages rolled on; a guard of soldiers surrounded thewhole; and they moved slowly forward through the throng and pressuretoward Lord Mansfield's ruined house.

  It was a sad sight--all the show, and strength, and glitter, assembledround one helpless creature--and sadder yet to note, as he rode along,how his wandering thoughts found strange encouragement in the crowdedwindows and the concourse in the streets; and how, even then, he feltthe influence of the bright sky, and looked up, smiling, into its deepunfathomable blue. But there had been many such sights since the riotswere over--some so moving in their nature, and so repulsive too, thatthey were far more calculated to awaken pity for the sufferers, thanrespect for that law whose strong arm seemed in more than one case to beas wantonly stretched forth now that all was safe, as it had been baselyparalysed in time of danger.

  Two cripples--both mere boys--one with a leg of wood, one who draggedhis twisted limbs along by the help of a crutch, were hanged in thissame Bloomsbury Square. As the cart was about to glide from under them,it was observed that they stood with their faces from, not to, the housethey had assisted to despoil; and their misery was protracted that thisomission might be remedied. Another boy was hanged in Bow Street; otheryoung lads in various quarters of the town. Four wretched women, too,were put to death. In a word, those who suffered as rioters were, forthe most part, the weakest, meanest, and most miserable among them. Itwas a most exquisite satire upon the false religious cry which had ledto so much misery, that some of these people owned themselves to beCatholics, and begged to be attended by their own priests.

  One young man was hanged in Bishopsgate Street, whose aged grey-headedfather waited for him at the gallows, kissed him at its foot when hearrived, and sat there, on the ground, till they took him down. Theywould have given him the body of his child; but he had no hearse, nocoffin, nothing to remove it in, being too poor--and walked meekly awaybeside the cart that took it back to prison, trying, as he went, totouch its lifeless hand.

  But the crowd had forgotten these matters, or cared little about themif they lived in their memory: and while one great multitude foughtand hustled to get near the gibbet before Newgate, for a parting look,another followed in the train of poor lost Barnaby, to swell the throngthat waited for him on the spot.