Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty

by Charles Dickens

  Chapter 12

  There was a brief pause in the state-room of the Maypole, as Mr Haredaletried the lock to satisfy himself that he had shut the door securely,and, striding up the dark chamber to where the screen inclosed a littlepatch of light and warmth, presented himself, abruptly and in silence,before the smiling guest.

  If the two had no greater sympathy in their inward thoughts than intheir outward bearing and appearance, the meeting did not seem likely toprove a very calm or pleasant one. With no great disparity between themin point of years, they were, in every other respect, as unlike andfar removed from each other as two men could well be. The one wassoft-spoken, delicately made, precise, and elegant; the other, a burlysquare-built man, negligently dressed, rough and abrupt in manner,stern, and, in his present mood, forbidding both in look and speech. Theone preserved a calm and placid smile; the other, a distrustful frown.The new-comer, indeed, appeared bent on showing by his every tone andgesture his determined opposition and hostility to the man he had cometo meet. The guest who received him, on the other hand, seemed to feelthat the contrast between them was all in his favour, and to derive aquiet exultation from it which put him more at his ease than ever.

  'Haredale,' said this gentleman, without the least appearance ofembarrassment or reserve, 'I am very glad to see you.'

  'Let us dispense with compliments. They are misplaced between us,'returned the other, waving his hand, 'and say plainly what we have tosay. You have asked me to meet you. I am here. Why do we stand face toface again?'

  'Still the same frank and sturdy character, I see!'

  'Good or bad, sir, I am,' returned the other, leaning his arm uponthe chimney-piece, and turning a haughty look upon the occupant ofthe easy-chair, 'the man I used to be. I have lost no old likings ordislikings; my memory has not failed me by a hair's-breadth. You ask meto give you a meeting. I say, I am here.'

  'Our meeting, Haredale,' said Mr Chester, tapping his snuff-box, andfollowing with a smile the impatient gesture he had made--perhapsunconsciously--towards his sword, 'is one of conference and peace, Ihope?'

  'I have come here,' returned the other, 'at your desire, holding myselfbound to meet you, when and where you would. I have not come to bandypleasant speeches, or hollow professions. You are a smooth man of theworld, sir, and at such play have me at a disadvantage. The very lastman on this earth with whom I would enter the lists to combat withgentle compliments and masked faces, is Mr Chester, I do assure you. Iam not his match at such weapons, and have reason to believe that fewmen are.'

  'You do me a great deal of honour Haredale,' returned the other, mostcomposedly, 'and I thank you. I will be frank with you--'

  'I beg your pardon--will be what?'

  'Frank--open--perfectly candid.'

  'Hah!' cried Mr Haredale, drawing his breath. 'But don't let meinterrupt you.'

  'So resolved am I to hold this course,' returned the other, tasting hiswine with great deliberation; 'that I have determined not to quarrelwith you, and not to be betrayed into a warm expression or a hastyword.'

  'There again,' said Mr Haredale, 'you have me at a great advantage. Yourself-command--'

  'Is not to be disturbed, when it will serve my purpose, you wouldsay'--rejoined the other, interrupting him with the same complacency.'Granted. I allow it. And I have a purpose to serve now. So have you. Iam sure our object is the same. Let us attain it like sensible men, whohave ceased to be boys some time.--Do you drink?'

  'With my friends,' returned the other.

  'At least,' said Mr Chester, 'you will be seated?'

  'I will stand,' returned Mr Haredale impatiently, 'on this dismantled,beggared hearth, and not pollute it, fallen as it is, with mockeries. Goon.'

  'You are wrong, Haredale,' said the other, crossing his legs, andsmiling as he held his glass up in the bright glow of the fire. 'You arereally very wrong. The world is a lively place enough, in which we mustaccommodate ourselves to circumstances, sail with the stream as gliblyas we can, be content to take froth for substance, the surface for thedepth, the counterfeit for the real coin. I wonder no philosopher hasever established that our globe itself is hollow. It should be, ifNature is consistent in her works.'

  'YOU think it is, perhaps?'

  'I should say,' he returned, sipping his wine, 'there could be no doubtabout it. Well; we, in trifling with this jingling toy, have hadthe ill-luck to jostle and fall out. We are not what the world callsfriends; but we are as good and true and loving friends for all that, asnine out of every ten of those on whom it bestows the title. You have aniece, and I a son--a fine lad, Haredale, but foolish. They fall inlove with each other, and form what this same world calls an attachment;meaning a something fanciful and false like the rest, which, if it tookits own free time, would break like any other bubble. But it may nothave its own free time--will not, if they are left alone--and thequestion is, shall we two, because society calls us enemies, standaloof, and let them rush into each other's arms, when, by approachingeach other sensibly, as we do now, we can prevent it, and part them?'

  'I love my niece,' said Mr Haredale, after a short silence. 'It maysound strangely in your ears; but I love her.'

  'Strangely, my good fellow!' cried Mr Chester, lazily filling his glassagain, and pulling out his toothpick. 'Not at all. I like Ned too--or,as you say, love him--that's the word among such near relations.I'm very fond of Ned. He's an amazingly good fellow, and a handsomefellow--foolish and weak as yet; that's all. But the thingis, Haredale--for I'll be very frank, as I told you I would atfirst--independently of any dislike that you and I might have to beingrelated to each other, and independently of the religious differencesbetween us--and damn it, that's important--I couldn't afford a match ofthis description. Ned and I couldn't do it. It's impossible.'

  'Curb your tongue, in God's name, if this conversation is to last,'retorted Mr Haredale fiercely. 'I have said I love my niece. Do youthink that, loving her, I would have her fling her heart away on any manwho had your blood in his veins?'

  'You see,' said the other, not at all disturbed, 'the advantage of beingso frank and open. Just what I was about to add, upon my honour! I amamazingly attached to Ned--quite doat upon him, indeed--and even if wecould afford to throw ourselves away, that very objection would be quiteinsuperable.--I wish you'd take some wine?'

  'Mark me,' said Mr Haredale, striding to the table, and laying his handupon it heavily. 'If any man believes--presumes to think--that I, inword or deed, or in the wildest dream, ever entertained remotely theidea of Emma Haredale's favouring the suit of any one who was akin toyou--in any way--I care not what--he lies. He lies, and does me grievouswrong, in the mere thought.'

  'Haredale,' returned the other, rocking himself to and fro as in assent,and nodding at the fire, 'it's extremely manly, and really very generousin you, to meet me in this unreserved and handsome way. Upon my word,those are exactly my sentiments, only expressed with much more force andpower than I could use--you know my sluggish nature, and will forgiveme, I am sure.'

  'While I would restrain her from all correspondence with your son, andsever their intercourse here, though it should cause her death,' saidMr Haredale, who had been pacing to and fro, 'I would do it kindly andtenderly if I can. I have a trust to discharge, which my nature is notformed to understand, and, for this reason, the bare fact of therebeing any love between them comes upon me to-night, almost for the firsttime.'

  'I am more delighted than I can possibly tell you,' rejoined Mr Chesterwith the utmost blandness, 'to find my own impression so confirmed. Yousee the advantage of our having met. We understand each other. We quiteagree. We have a most complete and thorough explanation, and we knowwhat course to take.--Why don't you taste your tenant's wine? It'sreally very good.'

  'Pray who,' said Mr Haredale, 'have aided Emma, or your son? Who aretheir go-betweens, and agents--do you know?'

  'All the good people hereabouts--the neighbourhood in general, I think,'returned the other, with his most affable smile. 'The messe
nger I sentto you to-day, foremost among them all.'

  'The idiot? Barnaby?'

  'You are surprised? I am glad of that, for I was rather so myself. Yes.I wrung that from his mother--a very decent sort of woman--from whom,indeed, I chiefly learnt how serious the matter had become, and sodetermined to ride out here to-day, and hold a parley with you on thisneutral ground.--You're stouter than you used to be, Haredale, but youlook extremely well.'

  'Our business, I presume, is nearly at an end,' said Mr Haredale, withan expression of impatience he was at no pains to conceal. 'Trust me, MrChester, my niece shall change from this time. I will appeal,' he addedin a lower tone, 'to her woman's heart, her dignity, her pride, herduty--'

  'I shall do the same by Ned,' said Mr Chester, restoring some errantfaggots to their places in the grate with the toe of his boot. 'If thereis anything real in this world, it is those amazingly fine feelings andthose natural obligations which must subsist between father and son. Ishall put it to him on every ground of moral and religious feeling. Ishall represent to him that we cannot possibly afford it--that I havealways looked forward to his marrying well, for a genteel provision formyself in the autumn of life--that there are a great many clamorous dogsto pay, whose claims are perfectly just and right, and who must be paidout of his wife's fortune. In short, that the very highest and mosthonourable feelings of our nature, with every consideration of filialduty and affection, and all that sort of thing, imperatively demand thathe should run away with an heiress.'

  'And break her heart as speedily as possible?' said Mr Haredale, drawingon his glove.

  'There Ned will act exactly as he pleases,' returned the other,sipping his wine; 'that's entirely his affair. I wouldn't for theworld interfere with my son, Haredale, beyond a certain point. Therelationship between father and son, you know, is positively quite aholy kind of bond.--WON'T you let me persuade you to take one glass ofwine? Well! as you please, as you please,' he added, helping himselfagain.

  'Chester,' said Mr Haredale, after a short silence, during which he hadeyed his smiling face from time to time intently, 'you have the head andheart of an evil spirit in all matters of deception.'

  'Your health!' said the other, with a nod. 'But I have interruptedyou--'

  'If now,' pursued Mr Haredale, 'we should find it difficult to separatethese young people, and break off their intercourse--if, for instance,you find it difficult on your side, what course do you intend to take?'

  'Nothing plainer, my good fellow, nothing easier,' returned the other,shrugging his shoulders and stretching himself more comfortably beforethe fire. 'I shall then exert those powers on which you flatter me sohighly--though, upon my word, I don't deserve your compliments to theirfull extent--and resort to a few little trivial subterfuges for rousingjealousy and resentment. You see?'

  'In short, justifying the means by the end, we are, as a last resourcefor tearing them asunder, to resort to treachery and--and lying,' saidMr Haredale.

  'Oh dear no. Fie, fie!' returned the other, relishing a pinch of snuffextremely. 'Not lying. Only a little management, a little diplomacy, alittle--intriguing, that's the word.'

  'I wish,' said Mr Haredale, moving to and fro, and stopping, and movingon again, like one who was ill at ease, 'that this could have beenforeseen or prevented. But as it has gone so far, and it is necessaryfor us to act, it is of no use shrinking or regretting. Well! I shallsecond your endeavours to the utmost of my power. There is one topic inthe whole wide range of human thoughts on which we both agree. We shallact in concert, but apart. There will be no need, I hope, for us to meetagain.'

  'Are you going?' said Mr Chester, rising with a graceful indolence. 'Letme light you down the stairs.'

  'Pray keep your seat,' returned the other drily, 'I know the way.' So,waving his hand slightly, and putting on his hat as he turned upon hisheel, he went clanking out as he had come, shut the door behind him, andtramped down the echoing stairs.

  'Pah! A very coarse animal, indeed!' said Mr Chester, composing himselfin the easy-chair again. 'A rough brute. Quite a human badger!'

  John Willet and his friends, who had been listening intently for theclash of swords, or firing of pistols in the great room, and had indeedsettled the order in which they should rush in when summoned--in whichprocession old John had carefully arranged that he should bring up therear--were very much astonished to see Mr Haredale come down without ascratch, call for his horse, and ride away thoughtfully at a footpace.After some consideration, it was decided that he had left the gentlemanabove, for dead, and had adopted this stratagem to divert suspicion orpursuit.

  As this conclusion involved the necessity of their going upstairsforthwith, they were about to ascend in the order they had agreedupon, when a smart ringing at the guest's bell, as if he had pulled itvigorously, overthrew all their speculations, and involved them ingreat uncertainty and doubt. At length Mr Willet agreed to go upstairshimself, escorted by Hugh and Barnaby, as the strongest and stoutestfellows on the premises, who were to make their appearance underpretence of clearing away the glasses.

  Under this protection, the brave and broad-faced John boldly enteredthe room, half a foot in advance, and received an order for a boot-jackwithout trembling. But when it was brought, and he leant his sturdyshoulder to the guest, Mr Willet was observed to look very hard into hisboots as he pulled them off, and, by opening his eyes much wider thanusual, to appear to express some surprise and disappointment at notfinding them full of blood. He took occasion, too, to examine thegentleman as closely as he could, expecting to discover sundry loopholesin his person, pierced by his adversary's sword. Finding none,however, and observing in course of time that his guest was as cool andunruffled, both in his dress and temper, as he had been all day, oldJohn at last heaved a deep sigh, and began to think no duel had beenfought that night.

  'And now, Willet,' said Mr Chester, 'if the room's well aired, I'll trythe merits of that famous bed.'

  'The room, sir,' returned John, taking up a candle, and nudging Barnabyand Hugh to accompany them, in case the gentleman should unexpectedlydrop down faint or dead from some internal wound, 'the room's as warm asany toast in a tankard. Barnaby, take you that other candle, and go onbefore. Hugh! Follow up, sir, with the easy-chair.'

  In this order--and still, in his earnest inspection, holding his candlevery close to the guest; now making him feel extremely warm about thelegs, now threatening to set his wig on fire, and constantly begging hispardon with great awkwardness and embarrassment--John led the party tothe best bedroom, which was nearly as large as the chamber from whichthey had come, and held, drawn out near the fire for warmth, a great oldspectral bedstead, hung with faded brocade, and ornamented, at the topof each carved post, with a plume of feathers that had once been white,but with dust and age had now grown hearse-like and funereal.

  'Good night, my friends,' said Mr Chester with a sweet smile, seatinghimself, when he had surveyed the room from end to end, in theeasy-chair which his attendants wheeled before the fire. 'Good night!Barnaby, my good fellow, you say some prayers before you go to bed, Ihope?'

  Barnaby nodded. 'He has some nonsense that he calls his prayers, sir,'returned old John, officiously. 'I'm afraid there an't much good in em.'

  'And Hugh?' said Mr Chester, turning to him.

  'Not I,' he answered. 'I know his'--pointing to Barnaby--'they're wellenough. He sings 'em sometimes in the straw. I listen.'

  'He's quite a animal, sir,' John whispered in his ear with dignity.'You'll excuse him, I'm sure. If he has any soul at all, sir, it must besuch a very small one, that it don't signify what he does or doesn't inthat way. Good night, sir!'

  The guest rejoined 'God bless you!' with a fervour that was quiteaffecting; and John, beckoning his guards to go before, bowed himselfout of the room, and left him to his rest in the Maypole's ancient bed.