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Barnaby Rudge
CHAPTER 82
Charles Dickens
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       _ Chapter the Last
       A parting glance at such of the actors in this little history as
       it has not, in the course of its events, dismissed, will bring it
       to an end.
       Mr Haredale fled that night. Before pursuit could be begun, indeed
       before Sir John was traced or missed, he had left the kingdom.
       Repairing straight to a religious establishment, known throughout
       Europe for the rigour and severity of its discipline, and for the
       merciless penitence it exacted from those who sought its shelter as
       a refuge from the world, he took the vows which thenceforth shut
       him out from nature and his kind, and after a few remorseful years
       was buried in its gloomy cloisters.
       Two days elapsed before the body of Sir John was found. As soon as
       it was recognised and carried home, the faithful valet, true to his
       master's creed, eloped with all the cash and movables he could lay
       his hands on, and started as a finished gentleman upon his own
       account. In this career he met with great success, and would
       certainly have married an heiress in the end, but for an unlucky
       check which led to his premature decease. He sank under a
       contagious disorder, very prevalent at that time, and vulgarly
       termed the jail fever.
       Lord George Gordon, remaining in his prison in the Tower until
       Monday the fifth of February in the following year, was on that
       day solemnly tried at Westminster for High Treason. Of this crime
       he was, after a patient investigation, declared Not Guilty; upon
       the ground that there was no proof of his having called the
       multitude together with any traitorous or unlawful intentions. Yet
       so many people were there, still, to whom those riots taught no
       lesson of reproof or moderation, that a public subscription was set
       on foot in Scotland to defray the cost of his defence.
       For seven years afterwards he remained, at the strong intercession
       of his friends, comparatively quiet; saving that he, every now and
       then, took occasion to display his zeal for the Protestant faith in
       some extravagant proceeding which was the delight of its enemies;
       and saving, besides, that he was formally excommunicated by the
       Archbishop of Canterbury, for refusing to appear as a witness in
       the Ecclesiastical Court when cited for that purpose. In the year
       1788 he was stimulated by some new insanity to write and publish
       an injurious pamphlet, reflecting on the Queen of France, in very
       violent terms. Being indicted for the libel, and (after various
       strange demonstrations in court) found guilty, he fled into Holland
       in place of appearing to receive sentence: from whence, as the
       quiet burgomasters of Amsterdam had no relish for his company,
       he was sent home again with all speed. Arriving in the month of
       July at Harwich, and going thence to Birmingham, he made in the
       latter place, in August, a public profession of the Jewish
       religion; and figured there as a Jew until he was arrested, and
       brought back to London to receive the sentence he had evaded. By
       virtue of this sentence he was, in the month of December, cast
       into Newgate for five years and ten months, and required besides to
       pay a large fine, and to furnish heavy securities for his future
       good behaviour.
       After addressing, in the midsummer of the following year, an appeal
       to the commiseration of the National Assembly of France, which the
       English minister refused to sanction, he composed himself to
       undergo his full term of punishment; and suffering his beard to
       grow nearly to his waist, and conforming in all respects to the
       ceremonies of his new religion, he applied himself to the study of
       history, and occasionally to the art of painting, in which, in his
       younger days, he had shown some skill. Deserted by his former
       friends, and treated in all respects like the worst criminal in the
       jail, he lingered on, quite cheerful and resigned, until the 1st
       of November 1793, when he died in his cell, being then only three-
       and-forty years of age.
       Many men with fewer sympathies for the distressed and needy, with
       less abilities and harder hearts, have made a shining figure and
       left a brilliant fame. He had his mourners. The prisoners
       bemoaned his loss, and missed him; for though his means were not
       large, his charity was great, and in bestowing alms among them he
       considered the necessities of all alike, and knew no distinction of
       sect or creed. There are wise men in the highways of the world who
       may learn something, even from this poor crazy lord who died in
       Newgate.
       To the last, he was truly served by bluff John Grueby. John was at
       his side before he had been four-and-twenty hours in the Tower, and
       never left him until he died. He had one other constant attendant,
       in the person of a beautiful Jewish girl; who attached herself to
       him from feelings half religious, half romantic, but whose virtuous
       and disinterested character appears to have been beyond the censure
       even of the most censorious.
       Gashford deserted him, of course. He subsisted for a time upon his
       traffic in his master's secrets; and, this trade failing when the
       stock was quite exhausted, procured an appointment in the
       honourable corps of spies and eavesdroppers employed by the
       government. As one of these wretched underlings, he did his
       drudgery, sometimes abroad, sometimes at home, and long endured the
       various miseries of such a station. Ten or a dozen years ago--not
       more--a meagre, wan old man, diseased and miserably poor, was found
       dead in his bed at an obscure inn in the Borough, where he was
       quite unknown. He had taken poison. There was no clue to his
       name; but it was discovered from certain entries in a pocket-book
       he carried, that he had been secretary to Lord George Gordon in the
       time of the famous riots.
       Many months after the re-establishment of peace and order, and even
       when it had ceased to be the town-talk, that every military
       officer, kept at free quarters by the City during the late alarms,
       had cost for his board and lodging four pounds four per day, and
       every private soldier two and twopence halfpenny; many months after
       even this engrossing topic was forgotten, and the United Bulldogs
       were to a man all killed, imprisoned, or transported, Mr Simon
       Tappertit, being removed from a hospital to prison, and thence to
       his place of trial, was discharged by proclamation, on two wooden
       legs. Shorn of his graceful limbs, and brought down from his high
       estate to circumstances of utter destitution, and the deepest
       misery, he made shift to stump back to his old master, and beg for
       some relief. By the locksmith's advice and aid, he was established
       in business as a shoeblack, and opened shop under an archway near
       the Horse Guards. This being a central quarter, he quickly made a
       very large connection; and on levee days, was sometimes known to
       have as many as twenty half-pay officers waiting their turn for
       polishing. Indeed his trade increased to that extent, that in
       course of time he entertained no less than two apprentices, besides
       taking for his wife the widow of an eminent bone and rag collector,
       formerly of MilIbank. With this lady (who assisted in the
       business) he lived in great domestic happiness, only chequered by
       those little storms which serve to clear the atmosphere of wedlock,
       and brighten its horizon. In some of these gusts of bad weather,
       Mr Tappertit would, in the assertion of his prerogative, so far
       forget himself, as to correct his lady with a brush, or boot, or
       shoe; while she (but only in extreme cases) would retaliate by
       taking off his legs, and leaving him exposed to the derision of
       those urchins who delight in mischief.
       Miss Miggs, baffled in all her schemes, matrimonial and otherwise,
       and cast upon a thankless, undeserving world, turned very sharp and
       sour; and did at length become so acid, and did so pinch and slap
       and tweak the hair and noses of the youth of Golden Lion Court,
       that she was by one consent expelled that sanctuary, and desired to
       bless some other spot of earth, in preference. It chanced at that
       moment, that the justices of the peace for Middlesex proclaimed by
       public placard that they stood in need of a female turnkey for the
       County Bridewell, and appointed a day and hour for the inspection
       of candidates. Miss Miggs attending at the time appointed, was
       instantly chosen and selected from one hundred and twenty-four
       competitors, and at once promoted to the office; which she held
       until her decease, more than thirty years afterwards, remaining
       single all that time. It was observed of this lady that while she
       was inflexible and grim to all her female flock, she was
       particularly so to those who could establish any claim to beauty:
       and it was often remarked as a proof of her indomitable virtue and
       severe chastity, that to such as had been frail she showed no
       mercy; always falling upon them on the slightest occasion, or on no
       occasion at all, with the fullest measure of her wrath. Among
       other useful inventions which she practised upon this class of
       offenders and bequeathed to posterity, was the art of inflicting an
       exquisitely vicious poke or dig with the wards of a key in the
       small of the back, near the spine. She likewise originated a mode
       of treading by accident (in pattens) on such as had small feet;
       also very remarkable for its ingenuity, and previously quite
       unknown.
       It was not very long, you may be sure, before Joe Willet and Dolly
       Varden were made husband and wife, and with a handsome sum in bank
       (for the locksmith could afford to give his daughter a good dowry),
       reopened the Maypole. It was not very long, you may be sure,
       before a red-faced little boy was seen staggering about the Maypole
       passage, and kicking up his heels on the green before the door. It
       was not very long, counting by years, before there was a red-faced
       little girl, another red-faced little boy, and a whole troop of
       girls and boys: so that, go to Chigwell when you would, there would
       surely be seen, either in the village street, or on the green, or
       frolicking in the farm-yard--for it was a farm now, as well as a
       tavern--more small Joes and small Dollys than could be easily
       counted. It was not a very long time before these appearances
       ensued; but it WAS a VERY long time before Joe looked five years
       older, or Dolly either, or the locksmith either, or his wife
       either: for cheerfulness and content are great beautifiers, and
       are famous preservers of youthful looks, depend upon it.
       It was a long time, too, before there was such a country inn as the
       Maypole, in all England: indeed it is a great question whether
       there has ever been such another to this hour, or ever will be. It
       was a long time too--for Never, as the proverb says, is a long day--
       before they forgot to have an interest in wounded soldiers at the
       Maypole, or before Joe omitted to refresh them, for the sake of his
       old campaign; or before the serjeant left off looking in there, now
       and then; or before they fatigued themselves, or each other, by
       talking on these occasions of battles and sieges, and hard weather
       and hard service, and a thousand things belonging to a soldier's
       life. As to the great silver snuff-box which the King sent Joe
       with his own hand, because of his conduct in the Riots, what guest
       ever went to the Maypole without putting finger and thumb into that
       box, and taking a great pinch, though he had never taken a pinch of
       snuff before, and almost sneezed himself into convulsions even
       then? As to the purple-faced vintner, where is the man who lived
       in those times and never saw HIM at the Maypole: to all appearance
       as much at home in the best room, as if he lived there? And as to
       the feastings and christenings, and revellings at Christmas, and
       celebrations of birthdays, wedding-days, and all manner of days,
       both at the Maypole and the Golden Key,--if they are not notorious,
       what facts are?
       Mr Willet the elder, having been by some extraordinary means
       possessed with the idea that Joe wanted to be married, and that it
       would be well for him, his father, to retire into private life, and
       enable him to live in comfort, took up his abode in a small cottage
       at Chigwell; where they widened and enlarged the fireplace for him,
       hung up the boiler, and furthermore planted in the little garden
       outside the front-door, a fictitious Maypole; so that he was quite
       at home directly. To this, his new habitation, Tom Cobb, Phil
       Parkes, and Solomon Daisy went regularly every night: and in the
       chimney-corner, they all four quaffed, and smoked, and prosed, and
       dozed, as they had done of old. It being accidentally discovered
       after a short time that Mr Willet still appeared to consider
       himself a landlord by profession, Joe provided him with a slate,
       upon which the old man regularly scored up vast accounts for meat,
       drink, and tobacco. As he grew older this passion increased upon
       him; and it became his delight to chalk against the name of each of
       his cronies a sum of enormous magnitude, and impossible to be paid:
       and such was his secret joy in these entries, that he would be
       perpetually seen going behind the door to look at them, and coming
       forth again, suffused with the liveliest satisfaction.
       He never recovered the surprise the Rioters had given him, and
       remained in the same mental condition down to the last moment of
       his life. It was like to have been brought to a speedy
       termination by the first sight of his first grandchild, which
       appeared to fill him with the belief that some alarming miracle had
       happened to Joe. Being promptly blooded, however, by a skilful
       surgeon, he rallied; and although the doctors all agreed, on his
       being attacked with symptoms of apoplexy six months afterwards,
       that he ought to die, and took it very ill that he did not, he
       remained alive--possibly on account of his constitutional slowness--
       for nearly seven years more, when he was one morning found
       speechless in his bed. He lay in this state, free from all tokens
       of uneasiness, for a whole week, when he was suddenly restored to
       consciousness by hearing the nurse whisper in his son's ear that he
       was going. 'I'm a-going, Joseph,' said Mr Willet, turning round
       upon the instant, 'to the Salwanners'--and immediately gave up
       the ghost.
       He left a large sum of money behind him; even more than he was
       supposed to have been worth, although the neighbours, according to
       the custom of mankind in calculating the wealth that other people
       ought to have saved, had estimated his property in good round
       numbers. Joe inherited the whole; so that he became a man of great
       consequence in those parts, and was perfectly independent.
       Some time elapsed before Barnaby got the better of the shock he had
       sustained, or regained his old health and gaiety. But he recovered
       by degrees: and although he could never separate his condemnation
       and escape from the idea of a terrific dream, he became, in other
       respects, more rational. Dating from the time of his recovery, he
       had a better memory and greater steadiness of purpose; but a dark
       cloud overhung his whole previous existence, and never cleared
       away.
       He was not the less happy for this, for his love of freedom and
       interest in all that moved or grew, or had its being in the
       elements, remained to him unimpaired. He lived with his mother on
       the Maypole farm, tending the poultry and the cattle, working in a
       garden of his own, and helping everywhere. He was known to every
       bird and beast about the place, and had a name for every one.
       Never was there a lighter-hearted husbandman, a creature more
       popular with young and old, a blither or more happy soul than
       Barnaby; and though he was free to ramble where he would, he never
       quitted Her, but was for evermore her stay and comfort.
       It was remarkable that although he had that dim sense of the past,
       he sought out Hugh's dog, and took him under his care; and that he
       never could be tempted into London. When the Riots were many years
       old, and Edward and his wife came back to England with a family
       almost as numerous as Dolly's, and one day appeared at the Maypole
       porch, he knew them instantly, and wept and leaped for joy. But
       neither to visit them, nor on any other pretence, no matter how
       full of promise and enjoyment, could he be persuaded to set foot in
       the streets: nor did he ever conquer this repugnance or look upon
       the town again.
       Grip soon recovered his looks, and became as glossy and sleek as
       ever. But he was profoundly silent. Whether he had forgotten the
       art of Polite Conversation in Newgate, or had made a vow in those
       troubled times to forego, for a period, the display of his
       accomplishments, is matter of uncertainty; but certain it is that
       for a whole year he never indulged in any other sound than a grave,
       decorous croak. At the expiration of that term, the morning being
       very bright and sunny, he was heard to address himself to the
       horses in the stable, upon the subject of the Kettle, so often
       mentioned in these pages; and before the witness who overheard him
       could run into the house with the intelligence, and add to it upon
       his solemn affirmation the statement that he had heard him laugh,
       the bird himself advanced with fantastic steps to the very door of
       the bar, and there cried, 'I'm a devil, I'm a devil, I'm a devil!'
       with extraordinary rapture.
       From that period (although he was supposed to be much affected by
       the death of Mr Willet senior), he constantly practised and
       improved himself in the vulgar tongue; and, as he was a mere infant
       for a raven when Barnaby was grey, he has very probably gone on
       talking to the present time.
       -THE END-
       "Barnaby Rudge", a historical novel by Charles Dickens. _