CHAPTER VIII. THE FIRE.
It was late in the evening as the Knight of Gwynne entered Dublin, andtook up his abode for the night in an obscure inn at the north sideof the city. However occupied his thoughts up to that time by theapproaching event in his own fortune, he could not help feeling a suddenpang as he saw once more the well-known landmarks that reminded him offormer days of happiness and triumph. Strange as it may now sound, therewas a time when Irish gentlemen were proud of their native city; whenthey regarded its University with feelings of affectionate memory,as the scene of early efforts and ambitions, and could look on itsParliament House as the proud evidence of their national independence!Socially, too, they considered Dublin--and with reason--second to nocity of Europe; for there was a period, brief but glorious, when thehighest breeding of the courtier mingled with the most polished wit andrefined conversation, and when the splendor of wealth, freely displayedas it was, was only inferior to the more brilliant lustre of a societyricher in genius and in beauty than any capital of the world.
None had been a more favored participator in these scenes than Darcyhimself: his personal gifts, added to the claims of his family andfortune, secured him early acceptance in the highest circles; and if hisabilities had not won the very highest distinctions, it seemed ratherfrom his own indifference than from their deficiency.
In those days his arrival in town was the signal for a throng ofvisitors to call, all eagerly asking on what day they might securehim to dine or sup, to meet this one or that. The thousand flatteriessociety stores up for her favorites, all awaited him. Parties whosefulfilment hung listlessly in doubt were now hastily determined on, as"Darcy has come" got whispered abroad; and many a scheme of pleasure buthalf planned found a ready advocacy when the prospect of obtaining himas a guest presented itself.
The consciousness of social success is a great element in the victory.Darcy had this, but without the slightest taint of vain boastfulnessor egotism; his sense of his own distinction was merely sufficient toheighten his enjoyment of the world, without detracting ever so littlefrom the manly and unassuming features of his character. It is true heendeavored, and even gave himself pains, to be an agreeable companion;but he belonged to a school and a time when conversation was cultivatedas an art, and when men preferred making the dinner-table and thedrawing-room the arena of their powers, to indicting verses for an"Annual," or composing tales for a fashionable "Miscellany."
We have said enough, perhaps, to show what Dublin was to him once. Howvery different it seemed to his eyes now! The season was late summer,and the city dusty and deserted,--few persons in the streets, scarcelya carriage to be seen; an air of listlessness and apathy was overeverything, for it was the period when the country was justawakening after the intoxicating excitement of the Parliamentarystraggle,--awakening to discover that it had been betrayed and deserted!
As soon as Darcy had taken some slight refreshment, he set out in searchof Daly. His first visit was to Henrietta Street, to his own house,or rather what had been his, for it was already let, and a flaringbrass-plate on the door proclaimed it the office of a fashionablesolicitor. He knocked, and inquired if any one "knew where Mr. BagenalDaly now resided;" but the name seemed perfectly unknown. He next triedBicknell's; but that gentleman had not returned since the circuit:he was repairing the fatigues of his profession by a week or two'srelaxation at a watering-place.
He did not like himself to call at the club, but he despatched amessenger from the inn, who brought word back that Mr. Daly had notbeen there for several weeks, and that his present address was unknown.Worried and annoyed, Darcy tried in turn each place where Daly had beenwont to frequent, but all in vain. Some had seen him, but not lately;others suggested that he did not appear much in public on account of hismoneyed difficulties; and one or two limited themselves to a cautiousdeclaration of ignorance, with a certain assumed shrewdness, as thoughto say that they could tell more if they would.
It was near midnight when Darcy returned to the inn, tired and wornout by his unsuccessful search. The packet in which he was to sail forEngland was to leave the port early in the morning, and he sat down inthe travellers' room, exhausted and fatigued, till his chamber should begot ready for him.
The inn stood in one of the narrow streets leading out of Smithfield,and was generally resorted to by small farmers and cattle-dealersrepairing to the weekly market. Of these, three or four still lingeredin the public room, conning over their accounts and discussing theprices of "short-horns and black faces" with much interest, andanticipating all the possible changes the new political condition of thecountry might be likely to induce.
Darcy could scarcely avoid smiling as he overheard some of thesespeculations, wherein the prospect of a greater export trade was deemedthe most certain indication of national misfortune. His attention was,however, suddenly withdrawn from the conversation by a confused murmurof voices, and the tramp of many feet in the street without The noisegradually increased, and attracted the notice of the others, andsuddenly the words "Fire! fire!" repeated from mouth to mouth, explainedthe tumult.
As the tide of men was borne onward, the din grew louder, and at lengththe narrow street in front of the inn became densely crowded by a mobhurrying eagerly forward, and talking in loud, excited voices.
"They say that Newgate is on fire, sir," said the landlord, as, hastilyentering, he addressed Darcy; "but if you 'll come with me to the top ofthe house, we 'll soon see for ourselves."
Darcy followed the man to the upper story, whence, by a small ladder,they obtained an exit on the roof. The night was calm and starlight,and the air was still. What a contrast--that spangled heaven in all itstranquil beauty--to the dark streets below, where, in tumultuous uproar,the commingled mass was seen by the uncertain glimmer of the lamps, fewand dim as they were. Darcy could mark that the crowd consisted ofthe very lowest and most miserable-looking class of the capital, thedwellers in the dark alleys and purlieus of the ill-favored region. Bytheir excited gestures and wild accents, it was clear to see how muchmore of pleasure than of sorrow they felt at the occasion that nowroused them from their dreary garrets and damp cellars. Shouts of madtriumph and cries of menace burst from them as they went. The Knight wasroused from a moody contemplation of the throng by the landlord sayingaloud,--
"True enough, the jail is on fire: see, yonder, where the dark smoke isrolling up, that is Newgate."
"But the building is of stone, almost entirely of stone, with little orno wood in its construction," said Darcy; "I cannot imagine how it couldtake fire."
"The floors, the window-frames, the rafters are of wood, sir," said theother; "and then," added he, with a cunning leer, "remember what theinhabitants are!"
The Knight little minded the remark, for his whole gaze was fixed on thecloud of smoke, dense and black as night, that rolled forth, as iffrom the ground, and soon enveloped the jail and all the surroundingbuildings in darkness.
"What can that mean?" said he, in amazement.
"It means that this is no accident, sir," said the man, shrewdly; "it'sonly damp straw and soot can produce the effect you see yonder; itis done by the prisoners--see, it is increasing! and here come thefire-engines!"
As he spoke, a heavy, cavernous sound was heard rising from the street,where now a body of horse-police were seen escorting the fire-engines.The service was not without difficulty, for the mob offered everyobstacle short of open resistance; and once it was discovered that thetraces were cut, and considerable delay thereby occasioned.
"The smoke is spreading; see, sir, how it rolls this way, blacker andheavier than before!"
"It is but smoke, after all," said Darcy; but although the words wereuttered half contemptuously, his heart beat anxiously as the densevolume hung suspended in the air, growing each moment blacker as freshmasses arose. The cries and yells of the excited mob were now wilder andmore frantic, and seemed to issue from the black, ill-omened mass thatfilled the atmosphere.
"That's not smoke, sir; look
yonder!" said the man, seizing Darcy's arm,and pointing to a reddish glare that seemed trying to force a passagethrough the smoke, and came not from the jail, but from some building atthe side or in front of it.
"There again!" cried he, "that is fire!"
The words were scarcely uttered, when a cheer burst from the mobbeneath. A yell more dissonant and appalling could not have broken fromdemons than was that shout of exultation, as the red flame leaped up andflashed towards the sky. As the strong host of a battle will rout andscatter the weaker enemy, so did the fierce element dispel the lesspowerful; and now the lurid glow of a great fire lit up the air, andmarked out with terrible distinctness the waving crowd that jammed upthe streets,--the windows filled with terrified faces, and the veryhouse-tops crowded by terror-stricken and distracted groups.
The scene was truly an awful one; the fire raged in some houses exactlyin front of the jail, pouring with unceasing violence its flood of flamethrough every door and window, and now sending bright jets throughthe roofs, which, rent with a report like thunder, soon became oneundistinguish-able mass of flame. The cries for succor, the shoutsof the firemen, the screams of those not yet rescued, and the stillincreasing excitement of the mob, mingling their hellish yells oftriumph through all the dread disaster, made up a discord the mosthorrible; while, ever and anon, the police and the crowd were incollision, vain efforts being made to keep the mob back from the frontof the jail, whither they had fled as a refuge from the heat of theburning houses.
The fire seemed to spread, defying all the efforts of the engines. Fromhouse to house the lazy smoke was seen to issue for a moment, and then,almost immediately after, a new cry would announce that another buildingwas in flames. Meanwhile the smoke, which in the commencement had spreadfrom the courtyard and windows of the jail, was again perceived tothicken in the same quarter, and suddenly, as if from a preconcertedsignal, it rolled out from every barred casement and loopholedaperture,--from every narrow and deep cell within the lofty walls; andthe agonized yell of the prisoners burst forth at the same moment, andthe air seemed to vibrate with shrieks and cries.
"Break open the jail!" resounded on every side. "Don't let the prisonersbe burned alive!" was uttered in accents whose humanity was far inferiorto their menace; and, as if with one accord, a rush was made at thestrongly barred gates of the dark building. The movement, although madewith the full force of a mighty multitude, was in vain. In vain thestones resounded upon the thickly studded door, in vain the strength ofhundreds pressed down upon the oaken barrier. They might as well havetried to force the strong masonry at either side of it!
"Climb the walls!" was now the cry; and the prisoners re-echoed thecall in tones of shrieking entreaty. The mob, savage from their recentrepulse at the gate, now seized the ladders employed by the firemen, andplanted them against the great enclosure-wall of the jail. The policeendeavored to charge, but, jammed up by the crowd, their bridles in manyinstances cut, their weapons wrested from them, they were almost at themercy of the mob. Orders had been despatched for troops; but as yet theyhad not appeared, and the narrow streets, being actually choked upwith people, would necessarily delay their progress. If there were anypersons in that vast mass disposed to repel the violence of the mob,they did not dare to avow it, the odds were so fearfully on the side ofthe multitude.
The sentry who guarded the gate was trampled down. Some averred he waskilled in the first rush upon the gate; certain it was his cap and coatwere paraded on a pole, as a warning of what awaited his comrades withinthe jail, should they dare to fire on the people. This horrible bannerwas waved to and fro above the stormy multitude. Darcy had but time tomark it, when he saw the crowd open, as if cleft asunder by some giantband, and at the same instant a man rode through the open space, and,tearing down the pole, felled him who carried it to the earth by astroke of his whip. The red glare of the burning houses made the scenedistinct as daylight; but the next moment a rolling cloud of black smokehid all from view, and left him to doubt the evidence of his eyesight.
"Did you see the horseman?" asked Darcy, in eager curiosity, for he didnot dare to trust his uncorroborated sense.
"There he is!" cried the other. "I know him by a white band on his arm.See, he mounts one of the ladders!--there!--he is near the top!"
A cheer that seemed to shake the very atmosphere now rent the air, as,pressing on like soldiers to a breach, the mob approached the walls.Some shots were fired by the guard, and their effect might be notedby the more savage yells of the mob, whose exasperation was now likemadness.
"The shots have told,--see!" cried the man. "Now the people aregathering in close groups, here and there."
But Darcy's eyes were fixed on the walls, which were already crowdedwith the mob, the dark figures looking like spectres as they passed andrepassed through the dense canopy of smoke.
"The soldiers! the soldiers!" screamed the populace from below; and atthe instant a heavy lumbering sound crept on, and the head of a cavalrysquadron wheeled into the square before the jail. The remainder of thetroop soon defiled; but instead of advancing, as was expected, theyopened their ranks, and displayed the formidable appearance of twoeight-pounders, from which the limbers were removed with lightningspeed, and their mouths turned full upon the crowd. Meanwhile aninfantry force was seen entering the opposite side of the square, thusshowing the mob that they were taken in front and rear, no escape beingopen save by the small alleys which led off from the street before theprison. The military preparations took scarcely more time to effect thanwe have employed to relate; and now began a scene of tumult and terrorthe most dreadful to witness. The order to prime and load, followedby the clanking crash of four hundred muskets; the close ranks of thecavalry, as if with difficulty restrained from charging down upon them;and the lighted fuses of the artillery,--all combined to augment themomentary dread, and the shouts of vengeance so lately heard were atonce changed into piercing cries for mercy. The blazing houses,from which the red fire shot up unrestrained, no longer attractednotice,--the jail itself had no interest for those whose danger wasbecome so imminent.
An indiscriminate rush was made towards the narrow lanes for escape,and from these arose the most piercing and agonizing cries,--for whilepressed down and trampled, many were trodden under foot never againto rise; others were wounded or burned by the falling timbers of theblazing buildings; and the fearful cry of "The soldiers! the soldiers!"still goaded them on by those behind.
"Look yonder," cried Darcy's companion, seizing him by the arm,--"lookthere,--near the corner of the market! See, the troops have notperceived that ladder, and there are two fellows now descending it."
True enough. At a remote angle of the jail, not concealed from view bythe smoke, stood the ladder in question.
"How slowly they move!" cried Darcy, his eyes fixed upon the figureswith that strange anxiety so inseparable from the fate of all who areengaged in hazardous enterprise. "They will certainly be taken."
"They must be wounded," cried the other; "they seem to creep rather thanstep--I know the reason, they are in fetters."
Scarcely was the explanation uttered when the ladder was seen to beviolently moved as if from above, and the next moment was hurled backfrom the wall, on which several soldiers were now perceived firing onthose below.
"They are lost!" said the Knight; "they are either captured or cut downby this time."
"The square is cleared already," said the other; "how quietly the troopshave done their work! And the fire begins to yield to the engines."
The square was indeed cleared; save the groups beside the fire-engines,and here and there a knot gathered around some wounded man, the spacewas empty, the troops having drawn off to the sides, around which theystood in double file. A dark cloud rested over the jail itself, but nolonger did any smoke issue from the windows; and already the fire, itsrage in part expended, in part subdued, showed signs of decline.
"If the wind was from the west," said the landlord, "there 's no sayingwhere that might have
stopped this night!"
"It is a strange occurrence altogether," said the Knight, musingly.
"Not a bit strange, sir," replied the other, whose neighborhood made himacquainted with classes and varieties of men of whom Darcy knew nothing;"it was an attempt by the prisoners."
"Do you think so?" asked Darcy.
"Ay, to be sure, sir; there's scarcely a year goes over without onecontrivance or another for escape. Last autumn two fellows got away byfollowing the course of the sewers and gaining the Liffey; they musthave passed two days underground, and up to their necks in water a greatpart of the time."
"Ay, and besides that," observed another,-for already some ten ortwelve persons were assembled on the roof as well as Darcy and thelandlord,--"they had to wade the river at the ebb-tide, when the mud isat least eight or ten feet deep."
"How that was done, I cannot guess," said Darcy.
"A man will do many a thing for liberty, sir," remarked another, whowas buttoned up in a frieze coat, although the night was hot and sultry;"these poor devils there were willing to risk being roasted alive forthe chance of it."
"Quite true," said Darcy; "fellows that have a taste for breaking thelaw need not be supposed desirous of observing it as to their mode ofdeath; and yet they must have been daring rascals to have made such anattempt as this."
"Maybe you know the old song, sir," said the other, laughing,--
"There s many a man no bolts can keep, No chains be made to bind them, And tho' the fetters be heavy, and cells be deep, He 'll fling them far behind them."
"I have heard the ditty," answered the Knight; "and if my memory servesme, the last lines run thus,--
"Though iron bolts may rust and rot, And stone and mortar crumble, Freney, beware! for well I wot Your pride may have a tumble."
"Devil a lie in that, anyhow, sir," said the other, laughing heartily;"and an uglier tumble a man needn't have than to slip through TomGalvin's fingers. But I see the fire is out now; so I 'll be jogginghomeward. Good-night, sir."
"Good-night," said Darcy; and then, as the other moved away, turning tothe landlord, he asked if he knew the stranger.
"No, sir," was the reply; "he came up with some others to have a look atthe fire."
"Well, I 'll to my bed," said Darcy; "let me be awakened at fouro'clock. I see I shall have but a short sleep; the day is breakingalready."
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