Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty by Charles Dickens (best way to read e books TXT) đ
- Author: Charles Dickens
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Quite unconscious, however, of the effect he produced, he trotted on beside his secretary, talking to himself nearly all the way, until they came within a mile or two of London, when now and then some passenger went by who knew him by sight, and pointed him out to some one else, and perhaps stood looking after him, or cried in jest or earnest as it might be, âHurrah Geordie! No Popery!â At which he would gravely pull off his hat, and bow. When they reached the town and rode along the streets, these notices became more frequent; some laughed, some hissed, some turned their heads and smiled, some wondered who he was, some ran along the pavement by his side and cheered. When this happened in a crush of carts and chairs and coaches, he would make a dead stop, and pulling off his hat, cry, âGentlemen, No Popery!â to which the gentlemen would respond with lusty voices, and with three times three; and then, on he would go again with a score or so of the raggedest, following at his horseâs heels, and shouting till their throats were parched.
The old ladies tooâthere were a great many old ladies in the streets, and these all knew him. Some of themânot those of the highest rank, but such as sold fruit from baskets and carried burdensâclapped their shrivelled hands, and raised a weazen, piping, shrill âHurrah, my lord.â Others waved their hands or handkerchiefs, or shook their fans or parasols, or threw up windows and called in haste to those within, to come and see. All these marks of popular esteem, he received with profound gravity and respect; bowing very low, and so frequently that his hat was more off his head than on; and looking up at the houses as he passed along, with the air of one who was making a public entry, and yet was not puffed up or proud.
So they rode (to the deep and unspeakable disgust of John Grueby) the whole length of Whitechapel, Leadenhall Street, and Cheapside, and into St Paulâs Churchyard. Arriving close to the cathedral, he halted; spoke to Gashford; and looking upward at its lofty dome, shook his head, as though he said, âThe Church in Danger!â Then to be sure, the bystanders stretched their throats indeed; and he went on again with mighty acclamations from the mob, and lower bows than ever.
So along the Strand, up Swallow Street, into the Oxford Road, and thence to his house in Welbeck Street, near Cavendish Square, whither he was attended by a few dozen idlers; of whom he took leave on the steps with this brief parting, âGentlemen, No Popery. Good day. God bless you.â This being rather a shorter address than they expected, was received with some displeasure, and cries of âA speech! a speech!â which might have been complied with, but that John Grueby, making a mad charge upon them with all three horses, on his way to the stables, caused them to disperse into the adjoining fields, where they presently fell to pitch and toss, chuck-farthing, odd or even, dog-fighting, and other Protestant recreations.
In the afternoon Lord George came forth again, dressed in a black velvet coat, and trousers and waistcoat of the Gordon plaid, all of the same Quaker cut; and in this costume, which made him look a dozen times more strange and singular than before, went down on foot to Westminster. Gashford, meanwhile, bestirred himself in business matters; with which he was still engaged when, shortly after dusk, John Grueby entered and announced a visitor.
âLet him come in,â said Gashford.
âHere! come in!â growled John to somebody without; âYouâre a Protestant, anât you?â
âI should think so,â replied a deep, gruff voice.
âYouâve the looks of it,â said John Grueby. âIâd have known you for one, anywhere.â With which remark he gave the visitor admission, retired, and shut the door.
The man who now confronted Gashford, was a squat, thickset personage, with a low, retreating forehead, a coarse shock head of hair, and eyes so small and near together, that his broken nose alone seemed to prevent their meeting and fusing into one of the usual size. A dingy handkerchief twisted like a cord about his neck, left its great veins exposed to view, and they were swollen and starting, as though with gulping down strong passions, malice, and ill-will. His dress was of threadbare velveteenâa faded, rusty, whitened black, like the ashes of a pipe or a coal fire after a dayâs extinction; discoloured with the soils of many a stale debauch, and reeking yet with pot-house odours. In lieu of buckles at his knees, he wore unequal loops of packthread; and in his grimy hands he held a knotted stick, the knob of which was carved into a rough likeness of his own vile face. Such was the visitor who doffed his three-cornered hat in Gashfordâs presence, and waited, leering, for his notice.
âAh! Dennis!â cried the secretary. âSit down.â
âI see my lord down yonderââ cried the man, with a jerk of his thumb towards the quarter that he spoke of, âand he says to me, says my lord, âIf youâve nothing to do, Dennis, go up to my house and talk with Muster Gashford.â Of course Iâd nothing to do, you know. These anât my working hours. Ha ha! I was a-taking the air when I see my lord, thatâs what I was doing. I takes the air by night, as the howls does, Muster Gashford.â
And sometimes in the day-time, eh?â said the secretaryââwhen you go out in state, you know.â
âHa ha!â roared the fellow, smiting his leg; âfor a gentleman as âull say a pleasant thing in a pleasant way, give me Muster Gashford aginâ all London and Westminster! My lord anât a bad âun at that, but heâs a fool to you. Ah to be sure,âwhen I go out in state.â
âAnd have your carriage,â said the secretary; âand your chaplain, eh? and all the rest of it?â
âYouâll be the death of me,â cried Dennis, with another roar, âyou will. But whatâs in the wind now, Muster Gashford,â he asked hoarsely, âEh? Are we to be under orders to pull down one of them Popish chapelsâor what?â
âHush!â said the secretary, suffering the faintest smile to play upon his face. âHush! God bless me, Dennis! We associate, you know, for strictly peaceable and lawful purposes.â
âI know, bless you,â returned the man,
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