Although he had had no rest upon the previous night, and had watched with little intermission for some weeks past, sleeping only in the day by starts and snatches, Mr Haredale, from the dawn of morning until sunset, sought his niece in every place where he deemed it possible she could have taken refuge. All day long, nothing, save a draught1 of water, passed his lips; though he prosecuted2 his inquiries3 far and wide, and never so much as sat down, once.
In every quarter he could think of; at Chigwell and in London; at the houses of the tradespeople with whom he dealt, and of the friends he knew; he pursued his search. A prey4 to the most harrowing anxieties and apprehensions5, he went from magistrate6 to magistrate, and finally to the Secretary of State. The only comfort he received was from this minister, who assured him that the Government, being now driven to the exercise of the extreme prerogatives7 of the Crown, were determined8 to exert them; that a proclamation would probably be out upon the morrow, giving to the military, discretionary and unlimited9 power in the suppression of the riots; that the sympathies of the King, the Administration, and both Houses of Parliament, and indeed of all good men of every religious persuasion10, were strongly with the injured Catholics; and that justice should be done them at any cost or hazard. He told him, moreover, that other persons whose houses had been burnt, had for a time lost sight of their children or their relatives, but had, in every case, within his knowledge, succeeded in discovering them; that his complaint should be remembered, and fully11 stated in the instructions given to the officers in command, and to all the inferior myrmidons of justice; and that everything that could be done to help him, should be done, with a goodwill12 and in good faith.
Grateful for this consolation13, feeble as it was in its reference to the past, and little hope as it afforded him in connection with the subject of distress14 which lay nearest to his heart; and really thankful for the interest the minister expressed, and seemed to feel, in his condition; Mr Haredale withdrew. He found himself, with the night coming on, alone in the streets; and destitute15 of any place in which to lay his head.
He entered an hotel near Charing16 Cross, and ordered some refreshment17 and a bed. He saw that his faint and worn appearance attracted the attention of the landlord and his waiters; and thinking that they might suppose him to be penniless, took out his purse, and laid it on the table. It was not that, the landlord said, in a faltering18 voice. If he were one of those who had suffered by the rioters, he durst not give him entertainment. He had a family of children, and had been twice warned to be careful in receiving guests. He heartily19 prayed his forgiveness, but what could he do?
Nothing. No man felt that more sincerely than Mr Haredale. He told the man as much, and left the house.
Feeling that he might have anticipated this occurrence, after what he had seen at Chigwell in the morning, where no man dared to touch a spade, though he offered a large reward to all who would come and dig among the ruins of his house, he walked along the Strand20; too proud to expose himself to another refusal, and of too generous a spirit to involve in distress or ruin any honest tradesman who might be weak enough to give him shelter. He wandered into one of the streets by the side of the river, and was pacing in a thoughtful manner up and down, thinking of things that had happened long ago, when he heard a servant-man at an upper window call to another on the opposite side of the street, that the mob were setting fire to Newgate.
To Newgate! where that man was! His failing strength returned, his energies came back with tenfold vigour21, on the instant. If it were possible — if they should set the murderer free — was he, after all he had undergone, to die with the suspicion of having slain22 his own brother, dimly gathering23 about him —
He had no consciousness of going to the jail; but there he stood, before it. There was the crowd wedged and pressed together in a dense24, dark, moving mass; and there were the flames soaring up into the air. His head turned round and round, lights flashed before his eyes, and he struggled hard with two men.
‘Nay, nay,’ said one. ‘Be more yourself, my good sir. We attract attention here. Come away. What can you do among so many men?’
‘The gentleman’s always for doing something,’ said the other, forcing him along as he spoke25. ‘I like him for that. I do like him for that.’
They had by this time got him into a court, hard by the prison. He looked from one to the other, and as he tried to release himself, felt that he tottered26 on his feet. He who had spoken first, was the old gentleman whom he had seen at the Lord Mayor’s. The other was John Grueby, who had stood by him so manfully at Westminster.
‘What does this mean?’ he asked them faintly. ‘How came we together?’
‘On the skirts of the crowd,’ returned the distiller; ‘but come with us. Pray come with us. You seem to know my friend here?’
‘Surely,’ said Mr Haredale, looking in a kind of stupor27 at John.
‘He’ll tell you then,’ returned the old gentleman, ‘that I am a man to be trusted. He’s my servant. He was lately (as you know, I have no doubt) in Lord George Gordon’s service; but he left it, and brought, in pure goodwill to me and others, who are marked by the rioters, such intelligence as he had picked up, of their designs.’
—‘On one condition, please, sir,’ said John, touching28 his hat. No evidence against my lord — a misled man — a kind-hearted man, sir. My lord never intended this.’
‘The condition will be observed, of course,’ rejoined the old distiller. ‘It’s a point of honour. But come with us, sir; pray come with us.’
John Grueby added no entreaties29, but he adopted a different kind of persuasion, by putting his arm through one of Mr Haredale’s, while his master took the other, and leading him away with all speed.
Sensible, from a strange lightness in his head, and a difficulty in fixing his thoughts on anything, even to the extent of bearing his companions in his mind for a minute together without looking at them, that his brain was affected30 by the agitation31 and suffering through which he had passed, and to which he was still a prey, Mr Haredale let them lead him where they would. As they went along, he was conscious of having no command over what he said or thought, and that he had a fear of going mad.
The distiller lived, as he had told him when they first met, on Holborn Hill, where he had great storehouses and drove a large trade. They approached his house by a back entrance, lest they should attract the notice of the crowd, and went into an upper room which faced towards the street; the windows, however, in common with those of every other room in the house, were boarded up inside, in order that, out of doors, all might appear quite dark.
They laid him on a sofa in this chamber32, perfectly33 insensible; but John immediately fetching a surgeon, who took from him a large quantity of blood, he gradually came to himself. As he was, for the time, too weak to walk, they had no difficulty in persuading him to remain there all night, and got him to bed without loss of a minute. That done, they gave him cordial and some toast, and presently a pretty strong composing-draught, under the influence of which he soon fell into a lethargy, and, for a time, forgot his troubles.
The vintner, who was a very hearty34 old fellow and a worthy35 man, had no thoughts of going to bed himself, for he had received several threatening warnings from the rioters, and had indeed gone out that evening to try and gather from the conversation of the mob whether his house was to be the next attacked. He sat all night in an easy-chair in the same room — dozing36 a little now and then — and received from time to time the reports of John Grueby and two or three other trustworthy persons in his employ, who went out into the streets as scouts37; and for whose entertainment an ample allowance of good cheer (which the old vintner, despite his anxiety, now and then attacked himself) was set forth38 in an adjoining chamber.
These accounts were of a sufficiently39 alarming nature from the first; but as the night wore on, they grew so much worse, and involved such a fearful amount of riot and destruction, that in comparison with these new tidings all the previous disturbances40 sunk to nothing.
The first intelligence that came, was of the taking of Newgate, and the escape of all the prisoners, whose track, as they made up Holborn and into the adjacent streets, was proclaimed to those citizens who were shut up in their houses, by the rattling41 of their chains, which formed a dismal42 concert, and was heard in every direction, as though so many forges were at work. The flames too, shone so brightly through the vintner’s skylights, that the rooms and staircases below were nearly as light as in broad day; while the distant shouting of the mob seemed to shake the very walls and ceilings.
At length they were heard approaching the house, and some minutes of terrible anxiety ensued. They came close up, and stopped before it; but after giving three loud yells, went on. And although they returned several times that night, creating new alarms each time, they did nothing there; having their hands full. Shortly after they had gone away for the first time, one of the scouts came running in with the news that they had stopped before Lord Mansfield’s house in Bloomsbury Square.
Soon afterwards there came another, and another, and then the first returned again, and so, by little and little, their tale was this:— That the mob gathering round Lord Mansfield’s house, had called on those within to open the door, and receiving no reply (for Lord and Lady Mansfield were at that moment escaping by the backway), forced an entrance according to their usual custom. That they then began to demolish43 the house with great fury, and setting fire to it in several parts, involved in a common ruin the whole of the costly44 furniture, the plate and jewels, a beautiful gallery of pictures, the rarest collection of manuscripts ever possessed45 by any one private person in the world, and worse than all, because nothing could replace this loss, the great Law Library, on almost every page of which were notes in the Judge’s own hand, of inestimable value,— being the results of the study and experience of his whole life. That while they were howling and exulting46 round the fire, a troop of soldiers, with a magistrate among them, came up, and being too late (for the mischief47 was by that time done), began to disperse48 the crowd. That the Riot Act being read, and the crowd still resisting, the soldiers received orders to fire, and levelling their muskets49 shot dead at the first discharge six men and a woman, and wounded many persons; and loading again directly, fired another volley, but over the people’s heads it was supposed, as none were seen to fall. That thereupon, and daunted50 by the shrieks51 and tumult52, the crowd began to disperse, and the soldiers went away, leaving the killed and wounded on the ground: which they had no sooner done than the rioters came back again, and taking up the dead bodies, and the wounded people, formed into a rude procession, having the bodies in the front. That in this order they paraded off with a horrible merriment; fixing weapons in the dead men’s hands to make them look as if alive; and preceded by a fellow ringing Lord Mansfield’s dinner-bell with all his might.
The scouts reported further, that this party meeting with some others who had been at similar work elsewhere, they all united into one, and drafting off a few men with the killed and wounded, marched away to Lord Mansfield’s country seat at Caen Wood, between Hampstead and Highgate; bent53 upon destroying that house likewise, and lighting54 up a great fire there, which from that height should be seen all over London. But in this, they were disappointed, for a party of horse having arrived before them, they retreated faster than they went, and came straight back to town.
There being now a great many parties in the streets, each went to work according to its humour, and a dozen houses were quickly blazing, including those of Sir John Fielding and two other justices, and four in Holborn — one of the greatest thoroughfares in London — which were all burning at the same time, and burned until they went out of themselves, for the people cut the engine hose, and would not suffer the firemen to play upon the flames. At one house near Moorfields, they found in one of the rooms some canary birds in cages, and these they cast into the fire alive. The poor little creatures screamed, it was said, like infants, when they were flung upon the blaze; and one man was so touched that he tried in vain to save them, which roused the indignation of the crowd, and nearly cost him his life.
At this same house, one of the fellows who went through the rooms, breaking the furniture and helping56 to destroy the building, found a child’s doll — a poor toy — which he exhibited at the window to the mob below, as the image of some unholy saint which the late occupants had worshipped. While he was doing this, another man with an equally tender conscience (they had both been foremost in throwing down the canary birds for roasting alive), took his seat on the parapet of the house, and harangued57 the crowd from a pamphlet circulated by the Association, relative to the true principles of Christianity! Meanwhile the Lord Mayor, with his hands in his pockets, looked on as an idle man might look at any other show, and seemed mightily58 satisfied to have got a good place.
Such were the accounts brought to the old vintner by his servants as he sat at the side of Mr Haredale’s bed, having been unable even to doze55, after the first part of the night; too much disturbed by his own fears; by the cries of the mob, the light of the fires, and the firing of the soldiers. Such, with the addition of the release of all the prisoners in the New Jail at Clerkenwell, and as many robberies of passengers in the streets, as the crowd had leisure to indulge in, were the scenes of which Mr Haredale was happily unconscious, and which were all enacted59 before midnight.
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1
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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prosecuted
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| a.被起诉的 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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prerogatives
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| n.权利( prerogative的名词复数 )；特权；大主教法庭；总督委任组成的法庭 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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10
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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13
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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14
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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15
destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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16
charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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17
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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18
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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23
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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24
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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26
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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27
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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28
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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29
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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32
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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33
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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35
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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36
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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37
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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38
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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39
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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40
disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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41
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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42
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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43
demolish
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| v.拆毁(建筑物等)，推翻(计划、制度等) | |
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44
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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45
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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46
exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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47
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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48
disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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49
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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50
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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53
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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54
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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55
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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56
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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57
harangued
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| v.高谈阔论( harangue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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59
enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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