Barnaby Rudge
Part Two (1780)
by Charles Dickens
Adapted for the stage by Bruce Cromer
“It is unnecessary to say, that those shameful tumults, while they reflect indelible disgrace upon the time in which they occurred, and all
who had act or part in them, teach a good lesson. That what we falsely call a religious cry is easily raised by men who have no religion, and who in their
daily practice set at nought the commonest principles of right and wrong; that it is begotten of intolerance and persecution; that it is senseless, besotted,
inveterate and unmerciful; all History teaches us. But perhaps we do not know it in our hearts too well, to profit by even so humble an example as the
'No Popery' riots of Seventeen Hundred and Eighty.” ---- Charles Dickens
Time and Settings
1780; parts of London and its environs
Dramatis Personae
At the Maypole Inn:
John Willet - slow, burly, and obstinate landlord of the Maypole
Joe Willet - his son, in love with Dolly Varden, thirty years old, broad-shouldered and strapping, but now a one-armed man
The Stranger - sixty-five or thereabouts, scarred cheek, bearded, meanly and poorly clad
Tom Cobb - general chandler and post-office keeper
Phil Parkes - the ranger, tall and long
Solomon Daisy - parish clerk
Hugh - hostler at the Maypole, athletic with gigantic strength
At the Warren:
Geoffrey Haredale - owner of the estate, brother to Emma’s murdered father
Miss Emma Haredale - daughter of the late Reuben Haredale, in love with Edward Chester
At the Varden’s Blacksmith Shop, in Clerkenwell:
Gabriel Varden - locksmith, plump and comfortable, past the prime of life
Martha Varden - his difficult wife
Dolly Varden - their beautiful and flirtatious daughter
Simon (Sim) Tappertit - thirty, Gabriel’s diminutive but majestically-minded apprentice, in unrequited love with Dolly
Miggs - Martha Varden’s servant, in love with Simon Tappertit
In London:
Mrs. Mary Rudge - Barnaby’s mother, in her early fifties, widow to the murdered steward of the Haredale house
Barnaby Rudge – the son of Mrs. Rudge
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Grip - Barnaby’s pet raven
Sir John Chester - Edward’s father, enemy of Geoffrey Haredale, past the prime of life, slim and upright in figure (if not in
character)
Edward (Ned) Chester - son of Sir John, in love with Emma Haredale
Peak - John Chester’s servant
Stagg - blind man, aide to the Stranger
various ‘Prentice Knights, now the United Bulldogs - Mark Gilbert (a former apprentice), etc.
General Conway – officer who attempts to quell the first riot
Sergeant – with Conway
Dennis – former hangman, now the head jailer of Newgate Prison
Wagon Driver – brings Barnaby and his mother back to London at the time of the riots
Lord Gordon’s Circle:
Mr. Gashford - Gordon’s manipulative secretary
Cast of 14 (7 women, 8 men)
Mrs. Rudge/Bulldog/Narrator
Emma/Cobb/Grip/Narrator
Miggs/Peak/Bulldog/Narrator
Dolly/Bulldog/Narrator
Stagg/Parkes/Bulldog/Narrator
Daisy/Grip/Gashford/Narrator
Mrs.Varden/Dennis/Bulldog/Narrator
Barnaby/Bulldog/Narrator
Sim /Narrator
Edward/Hugh/Narrator
Joe/Bulldog/Narrator
Willet/Conway/Wagon Driver/Narrator
Gabriel Varden/Bulldog/Narrator
Haredale/Stranger/Narrator
Chester/Sergeant/Bulldog/Narrator
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Act One, Scene One - March 19, 1780. Winter. Evening. The Maypole.
Willet, Cobb and Parkes sit by the fire.
Narration: One wintry evening, early in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, a keen north wind arises, and
night comes on with black and dismal looks. A bitter storm of sleet, sharp, dense, and icy–cold, rattles on the trembling
windows of the Maypole Inn...
Mr. Willet sits in what had been his accustomed place five years before, before the Maypole fireplace. It is now half–past
ten. Mr. Cobb and long Phil Parkes are his companions, as of old.
Willet: If he don’t come in five minutes, I shall have supper without him.
Parkes: To be sure, Solomon is very late...
Cobb: Very late, to be sure...
Parkes: He an’t blown away, I suppose... Do you hear it? There’ll be many a broken branch upon the ground tomorrow.
Willet: It won’t break anything in the Maypole, sir. Let it try. (Daisy, offstage, calls “Ahoy, Maypole” against the wind.) --What’s that?
Cobb: The wind.
Willet: Did you ever, sir, hear the wind say ‘Maypole’?
Parkes: Why, what man ever did?
Willet: (after Daisy again calls, “Ahoy, Maypole!!!”) Nor ‘ahoy,’ perhaps?
Cobb: No. Nor that neither.
They listen, and indeed hear this shout repeated, from outside — from some person in great distress or terror. They look at
each other, turn pale, but don’t stir.
Willet: If either of you two gentlemen likes to go out and see what’s the matter, you can. I’m not curious, myself.
A terrified Solomon Daisy, with a lighted lantern in his hand, and the rain streaming from his disordered dress, dashes into
the room. He stands, panting for breath, gazing on them with such livid ashy looks, that they are infected with his fear. Willet
suddenly seizes him and begins shaking him.
Willet: Tell us what’s the matter, sir — or I’ll kill you. How dare you look like that! Say something, or I’ll be the death of
you, I will.
Cobb and Parkes pull Willet off and place Daisy in a chair.
Daisy: Give me something to drink... And lock the house-door! (Willet gives him a mug.) Oh, Johnny... Oh, Parkes. Oh,
Tommy Cobb. Why did I leave this house tonight! Of all nights in the year, on the nineteenth of March!
Willet: Why, what the devil do you mean by that?...
Daisy: I have never gone alone into the church after dark on this day, for seven–and–twenty years. It’s said that as the living
keep our birthdays, so do ghosts, uneasy in their graves, keep their death-days
Parkes: (in a low voice) Go on...
Daisy: We are always brought back to this subject in some strange way, when the nineteenth of this month comes round…
(As he tells his story, he steps into the action of it on another part of the stage, as in Part One, Scene One.) Was it by
accident, that on this day I forgot to wind up the church–clock? I made as much haste as I could from here, but the wind and
rain being dead against me, it was as much as I could do to keep my legs. I got there at last, opened the church–door, and
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 3
wound up the clock. But as I took up my lantern to leave, I heard a voice outside — rising from among the graves.
Cobb: What did it say?
Daisy: It gave a kind of cry, as any one of us might, if something dreadful followed us in a dream, and came upon us
unawares; and then it died off: seeming to pass quite round the church.
Willet: (drawing a long breath, and looking round him with relief) I don’t see much in that.
Daisy: ...But that’s not all.
Willet: (pausing in the act of wiping his face upon his apron) What more, sir, is to come?
Daisy: What I saw.
Willet, Parkes, and Cobb: (bending forward) Saw!
Daisy: When I opened the church–door, there crossed me — something in the likeness of a man. Bare–headed to the storm.
It fixed its eyes on mine. It was a ghost — a spirit.
Willet, Parkes, and Cobb: Whose?
In the excess of his emotion (for he falls back trembling in his chair, and waves his hand as if entreating them to question
him no further), Daisy’s answer is lost on all but Willet, who is seated close beside him.
Parkes and Cobb: (looking eagerly at Daisy and Willet) Who! Who was it?
Willet: (after a pause) Gentlemen, you needn’t ask. It was the likeness of a murdered man. Such tales would not be liked at
the Warren. Let us keep it to ourselves, or we may get into trouble, and Solomon may lose his place. Whether it was really as
he says, or wasn’t, is no matter. Right or wrong, nobody would believe him. (eyeing the corners of the room with unease)
Lights fade.
Act One, Scene Two - The same evening. The Maypole, then the Warren.
Narration: After all had left, old John got his ideas into a focus upon Solomon Daisy’s story. The more he thought of it, the
more impressed he became with a desire that Mr. Haredale should be told --- by himself. He determined to repair to the
Warren before going to bed.
Willet: (thoughfully, to himself) He’s my landlord... And the whispering about of this here tale will anger him — it’s good to
have confidences with a gentleman of his natur’, and set one’s–self right besides. (yells) Halloa there! Hugh — Hugh.
Halloa!
Hugh’s Voice: Can’t a man even have his sleep in quiet?
Willet: (yelling as he dons his coat and scarf, and finds a lantern) Wrap yourself up, for you must go as far as the Warren
with me. And look sharp about it.
Hugh: (appearing, yawning and shaking himself as he puts a coat on) You don’t take a man out at near midnight in such
weather, do you, master?
Willet: Yes I do, sir. So hold that light up and go on before, to show the way.
Narrator: At length they stood upon the broad gravel–walk before the Warren–house. The building was profoundly dark.
From one solitary turret–chamber, however, there shone a ray of light.
Willet: (looking timidly upward) The old blood-stained room. Mr. Reuben’s own apartment, God be with us! I wonder his
brother likes to sit there, so late — and on this night too. Mr. Willet pulls the handle of the bell that hangs beside the door.
Hugh: (holding the lantern to his breast) Why, it’s snug enough, an’t it?
Willet: (indignantly) Snug! Do you know what was done in that room, you ruffian?
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Hugh: (looking directly at Willet) Is it the worse for that?! Because a man was killed there?
Emma Haredale opens the door, pulling her robe tighter her against the chill --- and Hugh’s leering smile.
Willet: Oh, Miss Haredale… Didn’t mean to wake you, Miss. I wondered if I might have a word with your uncle.
Emma: He’s upstairs, Mr. Willet; awake I’m certain --- but he’s been in a low mood all day and perhaps you should return
when --Haredale: (appearing suddenly) Who is it, my dear girl? Why didn’t the servants answer?…
Willet: Begging pardon, sir... You told me once that you sat up late, so I made bold to come round, having a word to say to
you. Didn’t mean to rouse your niece.
Haredale: Willet — is it not? What is the matter, man?
Willet: Nothing to speak of, sir... At least not before the young lady here. An idle tale, but I thought you ought to know of
it; nothing more.
Haredale: I’ll hear you then. (kissing her) Emma, back to bed with you.
Emma: Good night, Uncle. Please, sleep yourself soon. You think of too many dark things on this night. We must let go of
past heartaches.
Haredale: Those whom we love are not so easily released from our hearts, as I am sure you well know, my dear. (He
caresses her cheek. Then Emma, troubled by Hugh’s looks, exits.) Willet, come in (hastily, to Hugh) Not you, friend!
Wait outside. (after shutting Hugh outside) Willet, why do you bring that fellow here?
Willet: Why, sir, he’s a good guard, you see.
Haredale: There is no good there, be assured.
Narration: When Hugh was shut out, Mr. Willet recited all that he had heard and said that night. The story moved his
auditor much more than he had expected.
Haredale: You did quite right to bid them keep this story secret. It is a foolish fancy on the part of this weak–brained man,
bred in his fears and superstition. But Miss Haredale would be disturbed by it if it reached her ears. I thank you very much.
(Haredale escorts Willet outside. Hugh looks darkly at Haredale and mockingly bows.)
Willet: What do you mean by such a bow before the gentleman, sir?
Hugh: (fixing his eyes on Haredale) Why, even a wet dog may bow, master. I bow to this fine house, to the young lady, and
to the lord of it all. (Hugh starts off.)
Act Two, Scene One – The next afternoon, March 20, 1780. Lord George Gordon’s rooms in London.
Narration: The next afternoon, on March the twentieth, there was a knock on the house door of Lord George Gordon,
Member of Parliament, in Wellbeck Street, London. A rather unorthodox visitor was shown through the luxurious
hallways, until he presently knocked on the office door of Lord Gordon’s secretary.
(There is a knock on the door. Gordon’s secretary, Gashford says, “Enter” and Hugh walks in the room. Gashford is
angular, high–shouldered, bony, and ungraceful. His dress is demure and staid in the extreme; his manner, formal and
constrained. His manner is smooth and humble, but very sly and slinking. He looks patient — very patient — and fawns like
a spaniel dog.)
Hugh: Your servant, master. Master Gashford, isn’t it? Secretary to Lord George Gordon?
Gashford: (in his smoothest manner) Correct, friend. What brings you here?
Hugh gives a short laugh, and thrusting his hand into his breast, produces a handbill, soiled and dirty from lying out of
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 5
doors all night; he lays it upon the secretary’s desk.
Hugh: Nothing but that, master. Found it wrapped around a stone, on the ground near the Maypole Inn, Chigwell. It fell
into good hands, you see.
Gashford: (turning it over with an air of perfectly natural surprise) What is this! Where did you get it from, my good
fellow?
Hugh: It tells the man that finds it, to come here, don’t it? I’m no scholar, myself, but I showed it to a friend, and he said it
did. (reciting from memory) “To every Protestant into whose hands this shall come”
Gashford: (reading) “Whoever shall find this letter, will take it as a warning to join, without delay, the friends of Lord
George Gordon. There are great events at hand; and the times are dangerous and troubled. For King and Country. Union.”
Well, brother?
Hugh: I want to make one against the Catholics, I’m a No–Popery man, and ready to be sworn in.
Gashford: (after a pause, with his usual mildness) Well, my good fellow, you should first know that the Great Protestant
Association seeks to prevent Parliament from abolishing 1) the penal laws against Roman Catholic priests, 2) the penalty of
imprisonment for those who educate children in that persuasion, and 3) the disqualification of all members of the Romish
church to inherit property in the United Kingdom. (conspiratorially) Ah, the air is filled, my good man, with whispers of a
confederacy among the Popish powers to degrade and enslave England; such terrors and alarms have been perpetually
broached by our good and wise leader, Lord George Gordon. Thus, when one joins the G.P.A., one joins in the defense of
religion, life, and liberty.
Hugh: Then I do hereby swear to join in —
Gashford: Very good, very good; well, then, our business being settled, you must forgive me... No Popery!
Hugh: Aye, No Popery!
Gashford: For King and Country!
Hugh: (on his way out) For ‘em both, aye!
Gashford: And bless Lord Gordon!
Hugh: (as he exits) Aye, that too! Bless his lordship! No Popery!
Narration: Being now self-righteously thirsty, Hugh thought he should repair to The Boot Tavern, on the outskirts of
London, where he knew there was good Protestant company --- and strong liquor.
Act Two, Scene Two - The Boot Tavern.
Narration: And once there, Hugh repeatedly drank in a loud voice to --Hugh: --- The health of Lord George Gordon, President of the Great Protestants!
Narration: The Boot also contained a small detachment of the United Bulldogs, led by our old acquaintance, Mr. Simon
Tappertit. He was attended by former ‘Prentice Knights — like himself, now emancipated from their apprentice thraldom,
and who aspired to a distinguished state in great political events. Hence their connection with the G.P.A.; and hence their
present visit to The Boot.
Simon: (taking off his hat as a great general might in addressing his troops) Gentlemen! Well met. My lord Gordon does
me and you the honor to send his compliments per self.
Hugh: You’ve seen my lord too, have you? Been there myself this afternoon. (with a drunken flourish of his arm) I hate the
Papists, every one of ‘em. They do me all the harm they can, and I’ll do them all the harm I can. Hurrah!
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Simon: I say, haven’t I seen you before?
Hugh: I don’t know; shouldn’t wonder.
Simon: Did you ever see ME before? You wouldn’t be likely to forget it, you know, if you ever did. (proudly showing his
fine calves) Look at me. (almost thrusting a leg in Hugh’s face) Don’t be afraid; I won’t do you any harm. (Hugh laughs.)
Come! Do you know me, feller?
Hugh: Not I... But I should like to.
Simon: I’d have wagered that you once were hostler at the Maypole. (Hugh reacts in surprise, and Sim pushes him away
with a condescending playfulness) Don’t you know me now?
Hugh: (pushing rather roughly back) Why it an’t—
Simon: (playfully punching at this shoulder) You remember G. Varden, locksmith, don’t you? You remember coming down
there to the Golden Key, our shop, before I was out of my time, to ask after that vagabond Joe Willet that had bolted off, and
left his disconsolate father — don’t you?
Hugh: Of course I do! And I saw you there. (punching Sim --- a bit too hard --- back)
Simon: Don’t you remember when I found you detested the villain Willet worse than poison, I went to drink with you?
(pushes again, a bit rough himself)
Hugh: To be sure! (abruptly pushes him, knocking Sim to the ground) You’re that Tappertit! You must shake my hand!
Simon: (painfully rising, he does so) You never heard anything more of that rascal, I suppose, eh?
Hugh: Not a syllable... He’s dead long ago, I hope.
Simon: (wiping off the hand used to shake with Hugh) It is to be hoped, for the sake of mankind in general and the happiness
of society, that he is. (This induces another of Hugh’s laughing fits, which Simon tentatively joins.)
Hugh: Here’s my captain — here’s my leader. Ha ha ha! Let him give me the word of command, and I’ll fight the whole
Parliament House single–handed, or set a lighted torch to the King’s Throne itself! (He smacks poor Simon violently on the
back.) Oh, I quite forgot, Captain --- I have somebody to see tonight... Our renewed acquaintance and the drinking put it out
of my head.
Simon: Well, then... I give you permission to depart.
Hugh: (laughing) Good night, captain! I am yours to the death, remember!
Simon: (waving) Farewell! Be bold and vigilant!
Hugh: No Popery, captain!
Simon: England in blood first! (Hugh cheers, laughs, and runs off like a greyhound.) That man will prove a credit to my
corps... And when the locksmith’s child, dear Dolly, is mine, Miggs must be got rid of somehow, or she’ll poison the tea–
kettle one evening when I’m out. He might marry Miggs, if he was drunk enough. It shall be done. I’ll make a note of it.
Act Two, Scene Three -Sir John Chester’s chambers. That same night.
Narration: Though it was very late, indeed, when Hugh found his way to the lodgings of Sir John Chester, and later still
when he’d convinced the sleepy and suspicious porter that he was expected, he found himself standing in the esteemed
gentleman’s doorway that same evening.
Peak shows Hugh into Chester’s room; Sir John is in his dressing–gown and slippers.
Chester: Aha! (raising his eyebrows) It’s you, is it? Come in
Sir John beckons his late visitor into the dressing–room, and sits in his easy–chair before the fire, so that he can see Hugh as
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 7
he stands, hat in hand.
Narration: Yes, he was now Sir John. But how? Nothing so simple, or so easy. One touch with a sword of state, and the
transformation was effected. John Chester, Esquire, attended court. Such elegance of manner, so many graces of
deportment, such powers of conversation, could never pass unnoticed. He caught the fancy of the king, knelt down a grub,
and rose a butterfly. John Chester, Esquire, was knighted and became Sir John. And an M.P. --- member of Parliament.
Chester: I thought when you left me this afternoon, my esteemed acquaintance, that you intended to return with all
dispatch?
Hugh: So I did, master.
Chester: And so you have? (glancing at his watch) Is that what you would say?
Instead of replying, Hugh shuffles his cap from one hand to the other, looks at the ground, and finally at Sir John himself;
before whose pleasant face he lowers his eyes again, and fixes them on the floor.
Hugh: (growling with humility) I have only done as you ordered.
Chester: As I WHAT? (paring his nails) When you say I ordered you, my good fellow, you imply that I directed you to do
something for me — something for my own ends and purposes — you see? (turning his eyes full upon Hugh) Instead of
wondering why you have been so long, my wonder should be why you came at all.
Hugh: You know, master, that I couldn’t read the bill I found, and that supposing it to be something particular, I brought it
here.
Chester: And could you ask no one else to read it, Bruin?
Hugh: No one that I could trust with secrets, master. Since Barnaby Rudge was lost sight of for good and all — five years
ago — I haven’t talked with anyone but you. I have come to and fro, master, all through that time, because I wished to
please you if I could, and not to have you go against me.
Chester: (fixing his eye upon Hugh) Didn’t you give me in this room, earlier today, any other reason; no dislike of anybody
who has slighted you lately, abused you; acted towards you, more as if you were a mongrel dog than a man like himself?
Hugh: (his passion rising) To be sure I did! I’d do anything to have some revenge on him --- Haredale — anything. And
when you told me that he and all the Catholics would suffer from those who joined together under that handbill, I said I’d
make one of ‘em. I AM one of ‘em. He shall see my bark is nothing to my bite.
Chester: (with an air of most profound indifference) Oh! You have joined those fellows then? (holding the door open in his
hand) There — get you gone. You have made a pretty evening’s work. You’ll have an opportunity of revenging yourself on
your proud friend Haredale, and for that, you’d hazard anything, I suppose?
Hugh: I would! Let me pay off old scores in a bold riot where there are men to stand by me; and then — it don’t matter much
to me what the end is!
Hugh nods, and touching his cap with an air of as much respect as he can summon up, departs. Sir John sits down once
again before the fire, at which he gazes in earnest meditation.
Chester: (breaking into a smile) I fear, I DO fear exceedingly, that my friend is following fast in the footsteps of his hanged
mother. But it’s no business of mine.
He takes a pinch of snuff as the lights fade.
Act Three, Scene One - The Golden Key.
Narration: Gabriel Varden made preparations for the day’s militia duty, as a sergeant in the Royal East London Volunteers,
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 8
in the drawing room upstairs of his locksmith shop, The Golden Key.
Gabriel Varden is dressing in military gear. On a bench lie a cap and feather, broadsword, sash, and coat of scarlet; the
uniform of a sergeant in the Royal East London Volunteers. The locksmith glances at these articles with a laughing eye, with
his head a little on one side
Gabriel: Time was, now, I remember, when I was like to run mad with the desire to wear a coat of that color.
Mrs. Varden: (entering) Ah! A man at your time of life, Varden, should know better now.
Gabriel: (turning round with a smile) Why, what a ridiculous woman you are, Martha...
Mrs. Varden: (with great demureness) Certainly... Of course I am. I know that, Varden. Thank you.
Gabriel: I mean —
Mrs. Varden: Yes — I know what you mean. You speak quite plain enough to be understood, Varden.
Gabriel: Tut, tut, Martha. I mean, how strange it is of you to run down volunteering, when it’s done to defend you and all
the other women, and our own fireside and everybody else’s, in case of need.
Mrs. Varden: (shaking her head) It’s unchristian!
Gabriel: Unchristian! Why, what the devil—
Mrs. Varden: (looking heavenward, with a sigh) Yes, please do, Varden — go on, by all means blaspheme as much as
possible; you know how I like it...
Gabriel: (after being tempted to do so) I was going to say, which would be most unchristian, Martha — to sit quietly down
and let our houses be sacked by a foreign army, or to turn out like men and drive ‘em off? Shouldn’t I be a nice sort of a
Christian, if I looked on while a parcel of whiskered savages bore off Dolly — or you?
Mrs. Varden: (despite herself, relaxing into a smile) In such a state of things as that, indeed—
Dolly, runs in, throws her arms round her old father’s neck and hugs him tight.
Gabriel: Here she is at last! And how well you look, Doll, and how late you are, my darling!
Dolly: (She kisses him.) How glad I always am to be at home again!
Gabriel: (putting her hair back from her eyes) I don’t like your being at the Warren... I can’t bear to have you out of my
sight. And what is the news over yonder, Doll?
Dolly: Come, come... You know very well. I want you to tell me why Mr. Haredale — oh, how gruff he is again, to be sure!
— has been away from home, traveling about without telling his own niece why or wherefore.
Gabriel: Miss Emma doesn’t want to know, I’ll swear.
Dolly: What is this ghost story, which nobody is to tell Miss Emma and which seems to be mixed up with his going away?
Gabriel: I know no more than you, my dear. As to Mr. Haredale’s journey, he goes, as I believe —
Dolly: Yes...
Gabriel: (pinching her cheek) As I believe, on business, Doll. What it may be, is quite another matter. Read Blue Beard, and
don’t be too curious, pet.
Mrs. Varden: Reading Lord George Gordon’s speeches would be a greater comfort to her...
Miggs: (entering) Indeed, I’ld recommend all those whose hearts are hardened to hear Lord George --- his steady
Protestantism, his oratory, his eyes, his nose, his legs --- as fit for any statue, prince, or angel.
Mrs. Varden: (picking up a box from the mantelshelf, an imitation of a red–brick house, with a yellow roof; having a
chimney, down which she drops a coin, meaningfully; and on the house a sign reads “G.P.A.”) You, Varden, have never
dropped anything into this donation box for the Great Protestants And you, Dolly, are better loving to purchase ribbons
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 9
and such gauds, than to encourage the great cause. I entreat you (with a harsh look to Gabriel) to imitate the bright example
of Miggs, who flings her wages, as it were, into the very countenance of the Pope, and bruises his features with her quarter’s
money.
Miggs: Oh, mim, don’t relude to that. I had no intentions, mim, that nobody should know. (with a great burst of tears) It’s
all I have, but it’s made up to me in other ways; it’s well made up.
Mrs. Varden: (herself in tears) You needn’t cry, Miggs. You needn’t be ashamed of it, though your poor mistress IS on the
same side.
Miggs: (howling at this remark, in a peculiarly dismal way) I know that master hates me. It will be a hard trial to part from
such a missis, but, as I’m hated and looked upon unpleasant, perhaps my dying as soon as possible will be the best endings
for all parties. (With this, she sobs abundantly.)
Mrs. Varden: (in a solemn voice) Can you bear this, Varden?
Gabriel: Why, not very well, my dear, but I try to keep my temper. (Miggs sobs) What are you crying for, girl? I don’t hate
you. Dry your eyes and make yourself agreeable, in Heaven’s name. (to Dolly) I never wear this dress, but I think of poor Joe
Willet. Run off to be a soldier. I loved Joe; he was always a favorite of mine.
Dolly laughs — not like herself at all — the strangest little laugh that could be — and holds her head down lower still.
Gabriel: (muttering to himself) Poor Joe! Ah! old John made a great mistake in his way of acting by that lad — a great
mistake.
Mrs. Varden: (frowning) Never mind young Willet, Varden; you might find some one more deserving to talk about, I think.
(Miggs gives a great sniff to the same effect.) Even Mr. Edward Chester, who likewise ran off from his gracious, now
knighted father, did so as a loyal member of the Protestant church.
Dolly: Aye, and broke dear Emma Haredale’s heart, (at her mother) Catholic though it may be.
Gabriel: Nay, Dolly, don’t let us bear too hard upon Mr. Edward. Or upon poor young Joe, Martha. If the lad is dead
indeed, we’ll deal kindly by his memory.
Mrs. Varden: A runaway and a vagabond!
Miss Miggs sniffs again.
Gabriel: (in a gentle tone) A runaway, my dear, but not a vagabond.
Mrs. Varden coughs—and so does Miggs.
Gabriel: (smiling and stroking his chin) Joe tried hard to gain your good opinion, Martha, I can tell you... It seems but
yesterday that he followed me out to the Maypole door one night. “And how’s Miss Dolly, sir?” says Joe... He behaved
himself well, poor Joe — always — and was a handsome, manly fellow.
Miggs: Why, if here an’t Miss Dolly a–giving way to floods of tears. (Dolly exits hurriedly, followed by Miggs.)
Gabriel: Is Dolly ill?
Mrs. Varden: (exiting after Miggs and Dolly) Oh! I have no patience with you...
The unfortunate locksmith winds his sash about him, girds on his sword, puts on his cap, and walks out.
Gabriel: What have I done? (under his breath) Every man came into the world for something; my department seems to be to
make every woman cry without meaning it!
Act Three, Scene Two - En route to the deserted Rudge house.
Narration: The Royal East London Volunteers made a brilliant sight that day: formed into lines, squares, circles, triangles,
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 10
and what not, to the beating of drums, and the streaming of flags; in all of which Sergeant Varden bore a conspicuous share.
It was nine o’clock when the locksmith reached home.
A cloaked gentleman is waiting near his door; and as Gabriel passes, Mr. Geoffrey Haredale calls him by his name.
Gabriel: The sight of you is good for sore eyes, sir. Have you just come back to town?
Haredale: But half an hour ago.
Gabriel: Bringing no news of Barnaby, or his mother? Ah! I feared that. You exhausted all reasonable means of discovery
when they went away. To begin again after so long a time has passed is hopeless, sir.
Haredale: (impatiently) Varden, my good fellow, I have a deeper meaning in my present anxiety to find them out, than you
can fathom. I have no rest; no peace or quiet; I am haunted. Since the night of the storm --- the last nineteenth of March.
(hastily continuing) You know Mrs Rudge’s house has been shut up, since she went away. I am on my way there now.
Gabriel: For what purpose?
Haredale: To pass the coming nights there. This is a secret which I trust to you in case of any unexpected emergency.
Emma, your daughter, and the rest, suppose me out of London. Do not undeceive them. I rely upon your questioning me no
more at this time.
Narration: The two men parted, Gabriel entering his house and Mr. Haredale continuing to the vacant Rudge home. For
several weeks, Mr. Haredale shut himself up there, and never varied his proceedings. This went on for weeks. But one
night, when he had resumed his solitary watch and sat, his sword and pistol close at hand...
There is the sound of steps outside the door. Haredale douses the lantern and hides against the wall by the entrance. The
door creaks open and a form is silhouetted in the doorway. Once the Stranger steps inside the room, Haredale hits him
across the head with his pistol and stands over the prostate figure.
Haredale: Villain! Solomon Daisy’s wandering ghost. Dead and buried, as all men supposed through your infernal arts,
but reserved by Heaven for this — at last — at last I have you. You, whose hands are red with my brother’s blood, and that
of his faithful servant — his gardener, shed to conceal your own atrocious guilt — you, Rudge, double murderer and
monster, I arrest you in the name of God. --- No. Though you had the strength of twenty men (atop him, as the murderer
writhes and struggles), you could not escape me or loosen my grasp tonight!
Act Four, Scene One – A June evening. A small English country town. The home of Mrs. Rudge and Barnaby.
Narration: In a small English country town, under an assumed name, and living in a quiet poverty dwelt Barnaby and his
mother. To labor in peace, and devote her life to her poor son, was all the widow sought. For Barnaby, the time had passed
him like the wind. The daily suns of years had shed no brighter gleam of reason on his mind. Their hut stood on the
outskirts of the town, where few chance passengers strayed. One summer’s night in June, they were in their little garden,
resting from the labors of the day. Barnaby’s raven Grip hunted unwary grasshoppers.
The widow’s work is yet upon her knee, and strewn upon the ground about her; and Barnaby stands leaning on his spade,
gazing at the brightness in the west, and singing softly to himself. Grip pokes at the ground, muttering his old phrases.
Barnaby: A brave evening, mother! If we had, chinking in our pockets, but a few specks of that gold which is piled up
yonder in the sky, we should be rich for life.
Mrs. Rudge: (with a quiet smile) We are better as we are.
Barnaby: (resting with crossed arms on his spade) Ay! but gold’s a good thing to have, mother. Grip and I could do much
with gold...
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 11
Mrs. Rudge: What would you do?
Barnaby: What! A world of things. We’d dress finely — you and I, I mean; not Grip — keep horses, dogs, wear bright
colors and feathers, live delicately and at our ease. Oh, we’d find uses for it, mother!
Mrs. Rudge: (rising from her seat and laying her hand on his shoulder) You do not know what men have done to win it, and
how they have found, too late, that it glitters brightest at a distance, and turns quite dim and dull when handled.
Barnaby: Ay, ay; so you say; so you think... For all that, mother, I should like to try.
Mrs. Rudge: Nothing bears so many stains of blood, as gold. Avoid it. None have such cause to hate its name as we have.
Do not so much as think of it, dear love.
A blind man, with dusty feet and garments, suddenly stands, bare–headed, behind the hedge that divides their patch of
garden from the pathway, and leans meekly forward. Grip immediately dislikes him.
Stagg: A blessing on those voices! I feel the beauty of the night more keenly, when I hear them. They are like eyes to me.
Will they speak again, and cheer the heart of a poor traveler?
Mrs. Rudge: Have you traveled far? And with no guide?
Stagg: (shaking his head) A weary way and long... Be pleased to let me have a draught of water, lady.
Mrs. Rudge: Why do you call me lady? I am as poor as you.
Stagg: Your speech is soft and gentle, and I judge by that.
Barnaby: Come round this way... Put your hand in mine. You’re blind and always in the dark, eh? Are you frightened in the
dark? Do you see great crowds of faces, now? Do they grin and chatter?
Barnaby looks at Stagg’s eyes, touches them with his fingers, and leads him towards a stool.
Mrs. Rudge: How have you found your way so far?
Stagg: Use and necessity are good teachers... (sitting and putting his hat and stick down)
Mrs. Rudge: (with pity) You have wandered from the road, too.
Stagg: (with a sigh and yet something of a smile) Thank you the more for this rest, and this refreshing drink! (He merely wets
his lips and puts it down again. Then he takes out a few pence and speaks in Barnaby’s direction.) Might I make bold to ask
that one would lay this out for me in bread to keep me on my way? Heaven’s blessing on the young feet that will bestir
themselves in my aid! (Barnaby looks at his mother, who nods assent; he leaves to buy bread in the nearby village. The blind
man listens with an attentive face, until he’s sure Barnaby is gone, and then speaks suddenly in a very altered tone.) There
are various degrees and kinds of blindness, widow. There is physical blindness --- and there is, ma’am, a blindness of the
intellect, of which we have a specimen in your interesting son, and which is scarcely to be trusted as a total darkness… (He
draws from beneath his coat a flat stone bottle, and holding the cork between his teeth, flavors his mug of water with liquor.
He drains it with infinite relish.) Madam, my name is Stagg. (corking his bottle) A friend of mine who has desired the honor
of meeting with you any time these five years past, has commissioned me to call upon you. I should be glad to whisper that
gentleman’s name in your ear
Mrs. Rudge: (with a stifled groan) You need not repeat it. I see too well from whom you come. What do you want?
Stagg: We are poor, widow, we are poor. (stretching out his right hand, and rubbing his thumb upon its palm)
Mrs. Rudge: Poor! And what am I?
Stagg: I don’t know, I don’t care. I say that we are poor. My friend’s circumstances are indifferent, and so are mine. We
must have our rights, widow, or we must be bought off.
Mrs. Rudge: Is he near here?
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 12
Stagg: (starting to rise) Shall I call him?
Mrs. Rudge: (with a shudder) Not for the world.
Stagg: (settling again and crossing his legs) As you please, widow. But both he and I must live; we must eat and drink; we
must have money.
Mrs. Rudge: Do you know how pinched and destitute I am?
Stagg: (snapping his fingers) If you are very poor now, it’s your own choice. You have friends who are always ready to help
you. My friend is in a more destitute and desolate situation than most men, and, being linked together, he naturally looks to
you to assist him. He has boarded and lodged with me a long time. You have always had a roof over your head; he has
always been an outcast. You have your son to comfort and assist you; he has nobody at all. (Mrs. Rudge starts to speak, but
he continues.) He bears you no malice, ma’am: I believe even if you disappointed him now, he would consent to take charge
of your son, and to make a man of him. (He pauses for effect, as she weeps. Then he continues, thoughtfully.) He is a likely
lad, for many purposes, and not ill–disposed to try his fortune in a little change and bustle, if I may judge from what I heard
of his talk with you tonight. — Come. In a word, my friend has pressing necessity for twenty pounds. You, who can give up
an annuity, can get that sum for him. (She starts to speak again, and he again stops her.) Don’t say anything hastily. Think
of it a little while. Twenty pounds — of other people’s money — how easy!
Barnaby now returns with the bread.
Stagg: Ah, my lad, sit down and drink — for I carry some comfort, you see. Taste that. (Barnaby drinks and coughs.) Is it
good? (Barnaby nods.) You don’t taste anything like that, often, eh?
Barnaby: (drinking and coughing) Often! — Never!
Stagg: (sighing) Too poor? Ay. That’s bad. Your mother, poor soul, would be happier if she was richer, Barnaby.
Barnaby: (drawing his chair nearer to him, and looking eagerly in his face) Why, the very thing I told her just before you
came tonight, when all that gold was in the sky... Tell me. Is there any way of being rich, that I could find out?
Stagg: A hundred ways.
Barnaby: Ay, ay? What are they? — Nay, mother, it’s for your sake I ask; not mine.
Stagg: (turning his face, with a smile of triumph, to Mrs. Rudge) Why, they are not to be found out by stay–at–homes, my
good friend.
Barnaby: (plucking at his sleeve) By stay–at–homes! But I am not one. I am often out before the sun, and travel home when
he has gone to rest. I try to find, among the grass and moss, some of that small money for which she works so hard and used
to shed so many tears. Tell me where it is. I’d go there, if the journey were a whole year long, because I know she would be
happier when I came home and brought some with me.
The blind man passes his hand lightly over Barnaby’s face, and pauses for a minute as though he desired the widow to
observe this fully.
Stagg: It’s in the world, bold Barnaby; in crowds, and where there’s noise and rattle.
Barnaby: (rubbing his hands) Yes! I love that. Grip loves it too. It suits us both. That’s brave!
Stagg: The kind of places that a young fellow likes, and in which a good son may do more for his mother, and himself to
boot, in a month, than he could here in all his life — that is, if he had a friend, you know, and someone to advise with.
Barnaby: You hear this, mother? (turning to her with delight)
Stagg: Have you no answer, widow? (after a slight pause) Is your mind not made up yet?
Mrs. Rudge: Let me speak with you apart.
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 13
Stagg: (rising from the table) Courage, bold Barnaby. We’ll talk more of this: I’ve a fancy for you. Wait there till I come
back.
She leads him aside.
Mrs. Rudge: You are a fit agent, and well represent the man who sent you here. (She jingles coins in her hand.) First
answer me one question... You say he is close at hand. Has he left London?
Stagg: The truth is, widow, that his making a longer stay there might have had disagreeable consequences. He has come
away for that reason.
Mrs. Rudge: (she puts coins in his hand) They are the savings of five years. Six guineas. (He feels them carefully, puts one
between his teeth; and nods to her to proceed) These have been scraped together and laid by, purchased at the price of much
hunger, hard labor, and want of rest. If you CAN take them — do — on condition that you leave this place upon the instant.
Stagg: (shaking his head) Six guineas fall very far short of twenty pounds, widow.
Mrs. Rudge: For such a sum, as you know, I must write to a distant part of the country. To do that, and receive an answer,
I must have time. A week. Return on this day week, at the same hour.
Stagg: (after some consideration) Humph! On this day week at sunset. And think of your son.
He exits, as she returns to Barnaby.
Barnaby: Mother! What is the matter? Where is the blind man?
Mrs. Rudge: Gone.
Barnaby: (starting up) Gone! Which way did he take?
Mrs. Rudge: (folding her arms about him) I don’t know. You must not go out tonight. There are ghosts and dreams abroad.
Barnaby: (in a frightened whisper) Ay?
Mrs. Rudge: It is not safe to stir. We must leave this place tomorrow.
Barnaby: This place! This cottage — and the little garden, mother!
Mrs. Rudge: Yes! Tomorrow morning at sunrise. We must travel to London; lose ourselves in that wide place — then travel
on again, and find some new abode.
Act Four, Scene Two - Westminster Hall, the Houses of Parliament.
Narration: One evening, shortly before twilight, Mr. Haredale came his accustomed road upon the river’s bank, intending
to pass through Westminster Hall. There was a pretty large concourse of people assembled round the Houses of Parliament.
As he made his way among the throng, he heard once or twice the No–Popery cry, which was then becoming pretty familiar
to the ears of most men. Mr. Haredale had nearly traversed the Hall, when two persons caught his attention.
(A gentleman in elegant attire; the other, an obsequious, crouching, fawning figure.)
Chester: Haredale! Gad bless me, this is strange indeed! (Haredale keeps walking.) My dear friend, (detaining him) one
minute, Haredale, for the sake of old acquaintance.
Haredale: I am in haste Good night!
Chester: Fie, fie! how very churlish! We were speaking of you. — You know our friend here, Haredale?
(Gashford is plainly very ill at ease, and presses Sir John’s arm, to give him a hint that he’s desirous of avoiding this
introduction. As Mr. Haredale turns his eyes upon him, Gashford puts out his hand in an awkward and embarrassed
manner, which is not mended by its contemptuous rejection.)
Haredale: (coldly) Mr. Gashford! It is as I have heard then. You have left the darkness for the light, sir, and hate those
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 14
whose opinions you formerly held, we Catholics, with all the bitterness of a renegade. You are an honor, sir, to any cause.
(The secretary rubs his hands and bows, as though he would disarm his adversary by humbling himself before him.)
Chester: (taking a pinch of snuff with his usual self-possession) Now, really, this is a most remarkable meeting!
Gashford: Mr. Haredale, is too conscientious, too honorable, I am sure, to attach unworthy motives to an honest change of
opinions, even though it implies a doubt of those he holds himself. Mr. Haredale is too just, too generous, too clear–sighted
in his moral vision, to —
Haredale: (with a sarcastic smile) Yes, sir? You were saying —
Gashford meekly shrugs his shoulders, and looking on the ground again, is silent.
Chester: Haredale, my dear friend, here we stand, three old schoolfellows, in Westminster Hall; three old boarders in a
seminary at Saint Omer’s, where you two, being Catholics and of necessity educated out of England, were brought up; and
where I, being a promising young Protestant at that time, was sent to learn the French tongue!
Haredale: Add to the singularity, Sir John, that some of you Protestants of promise are at this moment leagued in yonder
building, to prevent our having the privilege of teaching our children to read and write — here — in this land, where
thousands of us enter your military service every year, and to preserve the freedom of which, we die in bloody battles
abroad, in heaps: and that others of you, to the number of some thousands as I learn, are led on to look on all men of my
creed as wolves and beasts of prey, by this man Gashford and Lord Gordon.
Chester: (with an engaging smile) Oh! You are really very hard upon our friend!
Gashford: (fumbling with his gloves) Let him go on, Sir John. I am honored with your good opinion, and I can dispense with
Mr. Haredale’s. Mr. Haredale is a sufferer from the penal laws, and I can’t expect his favor.
Haredale: (with a bitter glance at Chester) You have so much of my favor, sir, that I am glad to see you in such good
company. You are the essence of your great Association, in yourselves.
Chester: Now, there you mistake. I don’t belong to the body; I have an immense respect for its members, but I don’t belong
to it.
Haredale: I ask your pardon, Sir John, for having ranked you among the humble instruments who are obvious and in all
men’s sight. Men of your capacity plot in secrecy and safety, and leave exposed posts to the duller wits.
Chester: (sweetly) Don’t apologize, for the world... Old friends like you and I, may be allowed some freedoms.
Haredale: Is it not enough, Sir John, that I, as good a gentleman as you, must hold my property by a trick at which the state
connives because of these hard laws; but must we be denounced and ridden by such men as this! Here is a man to head your
No–Popery cry! For shame. For shame!
Gashford: (in a loud voice and waving his hand in a disturbed and agitated manner) I cannot talk to you, sir; we have
nothing in common.
Haredale: We have much in common — all that the Almighty gave us... And common charity, not to say common sense
and common decency, should teach you to refrain from these proceedings.
Chester: Oh, really — you are very, very hard upon our friend!
Narration: Mr. Haredale, without any leave–taking, turned away. But the throng of people followed in his wake. At first
some indistinct mutterings arose among them, which were followed by a hiss or two. Then one voice said --One Voice: Down with the Papists!
Narration: --- and there was a pretty general cheer. One man cried out --Another Voice: Stone him!
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 15
Narration: And another, in a stentorian voice --Stentorian Voice (Hugh): No Popery!
This favorite cry is re–echoed, and the mob joins in a general shout. Mr. Haredale looks round contemptuously, and walks
at a slow pace away. Gashford, as if without intention, turns about, and directly afterwards a stone is thrown by some hand,
in the crowd. It strikes Haredale on the head. He staggers, the blood flowing freely from the wound. He turns directly, and
rushes up with a boldness and passion which makes them all fall back.
Haredale: Who did that? Show me the man who hit me. (No one moves.) Dog, was it you? It was your deed, if not your hand
— I know you.
He throws himself on Gashford and hurls him to the ground. There is a sudden motion in the crowd, and some lay hands
upon him, but his sword comes out, and they fall off again.
Haredale: Draw, dog — Sir John --- draw, one of you — you are responsible for this outrage, and I look to you. Draw, if
you are gentlemen.
He strikes Sir John upon the breast with the flat of his weapon, and with a burning face and flashing eyes stands upon his
guard; alone, before them all. For an instant, there is an evil change in Sir John’s smooth face. But the next moment he steps
forward, and lays one hand on Mr. Haredale’s arm, while with the other he endeavors to appease the crowd.
Chester: My dear friend, my good Haredale, you are blinded with passion — it’s very natural, extremely natural — but you
don’t know friends from foes.
Haredale: (almost mad with rage) I know them all, sir, I can distinguish well — Sir John, Gashford — do you hear me? Are
you cowards?
One-Armed Man: (forcing his way between and pushing Haredale towards the stairs) Sir, never mind asking that. What
CAN you do against this number? — You’d be giddy from that cut, in the first heat of a scuffle. Come, sir, make haste — as
quick as you can.
The two leave quickly. The crowd separates and departs. Chester stares after Haredale, glares at Gashford, and exits.
Gashford, bruised by his fall, and hurt in a much greater degree by the indignity he has undergone, limps up and down,
breathing curses and threats of vengeance. Hugh comes through the departing crowd, with another rock in hand.
Hugh: (in evident surprise) Master Gashford! Why, who’d have thought of this here honor! What’s in the wind now, Master
Gashford? Any orders from head–quarters?
Gashford: (with a friendly nod) Oh, nothing, nothing... We have broken the ice, though. We had a little spurt today — eh?
Hugh: (growling) A very little one... Not half enough for me.
Gashford: Brave fellow! By the bye — who threw that stone?
Hugh stands in silence.
Gashford: It was well done! I should like to know that man. (laughing) You saw how I fell when I was set upon. I made no
resistance. I did nothing to provoke an outbreak.
Hugh: (with a noisy laugh) No! — You went down very quiet, Master Gashford — and very flat besides. He’s a rough ‘un
to play with, is that ‘ere Papist, and that’s the fact.
Gashford: (with an unpleasant expression, waits until Hugh finishes laughing) I — or, rather, my lord Gordon consigns to
you the pleasant task of punishing this Haredale. Do as you please with him, or his, provided that you show no mercy, and no
quarter, and leave no two beams of his house standing where the builder placed them. You may sack it, burn it, do with it as
you like, but it must come down; it must be razed to the ground; and he, and all belonging to him, left as shelterless as new–
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 16
born infants whom their mothers have exposed. Do you understand me? (pressing his hands together gently)
Hugh: Understand you, master! You speak plain now. Why, this is hearty!
Gashford: (shaking him by the hand) I knew you would like it. Good night! (Exits.)
Hugh: This looks a little more like business!
Act Five, Scene One - On the road to London.
Narration: The following dawn, Mary and Barnaby Rudge closed the door of their deserted home, and turned away. Their
stock of money was low, but from the hoard she had told into the blind man’s hand, the widow had withheld one guinea.
They were soon sitting in a wagon which was to take them within ten miles of the capital.
Barnaby: Mother, we’re going to London first, you said. Shall we see that blind man there?
Mrs. Rudge: No, I think not; why do you ask?
Barnaby: (thoughtfully) He’s a wise man. What was it that he said of crowds? That gold was to be found where people
crowded, and not among the trees and in such quiet places? London is a crowded place; I think we shall meet him there.
Mrs. Rudge: But why do you desire to see him, love?
Barnaby: (looking wistfully at her) Because, he talked to me about gold, and say what you will, a thing you would like to
have, I know.
Narration: The driver was punctual, the road good and in the forenoon of that Friday, the wagon stopped at the foot of
Westminster Bridge, in London. (Barnaby and Mrs. Rudge get out of the wagon, collecting their belongings — which
include Grip in his basket.) They were bewildered by the crowd of people who were already astir, and soon became aware
that a vast throng of persons were crossing the river, in unusual haste and evident excitement. Nearly every man wore a blue
cockade.
Mrs. Rudge: (speaking to the wagon driver) Good sir, what is this meaning of all these people?
Driver: Why, haven’t you heard of Lord George Gordon’s Great Protestant Association, ma’m? This is the day that he
presents the petition against the Catholics, God bless him!
Mrs. Rudge: What have all these men to do with that?
Driver: His lordship has declared he won’t present it to the house at all, unless it is attended to the door by forty thousand
good and true men at least! There’s a crowd for you!
Barnaby: A crowd indeed! Do you hear that, mother!
Driver: Ah! There’ll be a good many faces inside the House of Commons, that’ll turn pale when good Lord George gets up
this afternoon, and with reason too! (With much mumbling and chuckling and shaking of his forefinger, he exits.)
Barnaby: Mother! That’s a brave crowd he talks of. Come!
Mrs. Rudge: Not to join it!
Barnaby: (plucking at her sleeve) Yes, yes... Why not? Come!
Mrs. Rudge: You don’t know what mischief they may do, where they may lead you, what their meaning is. Dear Barnaby,
for my sake —
Barnaby: (patting her hand) For your sake! Well! It IS for your sake, mother. You remember what the blind man said,
about the gold. Here’s a brave crowd! Come!
Gashford passes, sees Barnaby, and stops.
Gashford: Young man! Why do you not wear this ornament today? (holding out a blue cockade)
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 17
Mrs. Rudge: In Heaven’s name, no. Pray do not give it him!
Gashford: (coldly) Speak for yourself, woman Leave the young man to his choice, whether he’ll wear the sign of a loyal
Englishman or not.
Barnaby: Yes! yes, yes, I will!
Gashford: (throwing him a cockade) Make haste to St George’s Fields. (Barnaby eagerly fixes the bauble in his hat.) Didn’t
you know that the hour for assembling was ten o’clock? (Barnaby shakes his head and looks vacantly from one to the other.)
Mrs. Rudge: He cannot tell you, sir... We are but this morning come from a long distance in the country --Gashford: Ah, I thank Heaven for it!
Barnaby: (with a solemn face) Amen!
Mrs. Rudge: You do not understand me, sir. We know nothing of these matters. We have no desire or right to join in what
you are about to do. This is my son, my poor afflicted son, dearer to me than my own life. In mercy’s name, sir, go your way
alone, and do not tempt him into danger! (laying her hands on Gashford’s breast) Hear my earnest, mother’s prayer, and
leave my son with me. He is not in his right senses, he is not, indeed!
Gashford: (evading her touch) Have you the heart to say this of your own son, unnatural mother! (with a meek severity)
This is a very sad picture of female depravity. With regard to this young man, my good woman (with a slightly curled lip, as
he looks at Barnaby, who stands twirling his hat, and stealthily beckoning him to come away), he is as sensible and self–
possessed as any one I ever saw. (to Barnaby) And you desire to make one of this great body? And intended to make one, did
you?
Barnaby: Yes — yes... To be sure I did! I told her so myself.
Gashford: I see. (with a reproachful glance at the unhappy mother) I thought so. Follow me and you shall have your wish.
Narration: The widow strove breathlessly to keep their rapid pace, as they passed quickly through the Bridge Road, and
presently arrived before St George’s Fields. Here an immense multitude was collected, bearing flags, all blue, like the
cockades. Then they burst into a tremendous shout; and the air seemed rent and shaken, as if by the discharge of cannon.
Gashford: It is a proud sight. It is a noble day for England, and for the great cause throughout the world. And now we shall
find a place in some division for this new recruit.
Hugh steps with a shout of laughter from the rank, and smites Barnaby on the shoulders with his heavy hand.
Hugh: How now! Barnaby Rudge! Why, where have you been hiding for these hundred years?
Barnaby: What! Hugh!
Hugh: Hugh! Ay, Hugh — Maypole Hugh! What, you wear the color, do you? Well done! Ha ha ha!
Gashford: You know this young man, I see.
Hugh: Know him, my lord! As well as I know my own right hand. My captain knows him. We all know him.
Gashford: Will you take him into your division? I must proceed to Westminster, to seek the glorious news of Lord
Gordon’s petition.
Hugh: Fall in, Barnaby. He shall march, master Gashford, with me; and he shall carry the gayest silken streamer in this
valiant army. (Giving a flag to Barnaby, as Gashford exits.)
Mrs. Rudge: (shrieking and darting forward) In the name of God, no! Barnaby — good sir — see — he’ll come back —
Barnaby — Barnaby!
Hugh: (stepping between them and holding her off) Women in the field! Holloa! My captain there!
Simon: (bustling up in a great heat) What’s the matter here? Do you call this order?
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 18
Hugh: (holding Mrs. Rudge back) Nothing like it, captain... It’s against all orders. Ladies are carrying off our gallant
soldiers from their duty. The word of command, captain! They’re filing off the ground. Quick!
Simon: (with the whole power of his lungs) Close! Form! March!
Narration: She was thrown to the ground; the whole field was in motion; Barnaby was whirled away into the heart of a
dense mass of men, and she saw him no more.
Act Five, Scene Two - That same day. The mob moves through London.
Simon: (looking up at the windows thronged with spectators) What do you think of this? They have all turned out to see our
flags and streamers? Eh, Barnaby?
Hugh: Why, Barnaby’s the greatest man of all the pack! His flag’s the largest of the lot, the brightest too. All eyes are turned
on him. Ha ha ha! (Barnaby looks vacantly to Hugh.) Here, I’ll explain... Barnaby old boy, attend to me.
Barnaby: (looking anxiously round) I wish I could see her somewhere. She would be proud indeed to see me now, eh,
Hugh? Wouldn’t it make her glad to see me at the head of this large show? She’d cry for joy, I know she would. Where CAN
she be?
Hugh: You’re talking of your mother. Lookee, bold lad. If she’s not here to see, it’s because I’ve sent half–a–dozen
gentlemen to take her, in state, to a grand house all hung round with gold and silver banners, where she’ll wait till you come,
and want for nothing.
Barnaby: (beaming with delight) Ay! Have you indeed? That’s fine! Kind Hugh!
Simon: (with a wink to Hugh) But nothing to what will come, bless you.
Barnaby: No, indeed?
Simon: All the fine things there are, ever were, or will be, will belong to us if we are true to that noble gentleman, Lord
Gordon.
Hugh: The best man in the world — and, Barnaby, we only have to carry our flags for a few days, and keep ‘em safe. That’s
all we’ve got to do.
Barnaby: (with glistening eyes, clutching his pole tighter) Is that all? I warrant you I keep this one safe, then. You have put
it in good hands. You know me, Hugh.
Hugh: Well said! Ha ha! Nobly said! That’s the old stout Barnaby, that I have climbed and leaped with, many and many a
day.
Narration: It was between two and three o’clock in the afternoon when crowds met at Westminster. The noise and uproar
were on the increase every moment. The mob raged and roared, like a mad monster — as it was...
Grip: (in Barnaby’s basket) I’m a devil, I’m a Polly, I’m a kettle, No Popery, No Popery!
Barnaby: Well said, Grip! (patting the basket) Well said, old boy! Stay inside there, where it’s safe.
Grip: Never say die, bow wow wow, keep up your spirits, Grip Grip Grip, Holloa! Polly put the kettle on, we’ll all have tea!
No Popery!
Barnaby: Gordon forever, Grip!
Hugh: Order! (as Gashford appears) News! News from my lord!
The crowd noise continues, until Gashford looks round. Then there is silence immediately.
Gashford: (agitated) Gentlemen, we must be firm. They talk of delays, but we must have no delays. They talk of taking
your petition into consideration next Tuesday, but we must have it considered now. Present appearances look bad for our
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 19
success, but we must succeed and will!
Crowd: We must succeed and will! (There is another gesture from Gashford, and a dead silence directly.)
Gashford: I am afraid that we have little reason, gentlemen, to hope for any redress from the proceedings of Parliament. But
the alarm has gone forth for many miles round; and when the King hears of our assemblage here, I’ve doubt, His Majesty
will send down private orders to have our wishes complied with; and —
General Conway and a sergeant suddenly appear, armed with swords, and push past Gashford to confront the crowd.
General Conway: (loud, but cool and collected) I am General Conway, and I oppose this petition, and all your proceedings.
The armed soldiers behind me and I will protect the freedom of this place with sword, bayonets, and rifles. You see, citizens,
that the members of this House are surrounded and protected by the military and militia If a man among this crowd
crosses the threshold of the House of Commons, I swear to run my sword that moment straight into his body! All face arrest,
under the Riot Act, unless you disperse at once.
The crowd falters. Gashford makes a sign to Hugh and Simon. Sim worriedly steps back from the front of the throng.
Hugh: (roaring to the crowd) Why go back? One good rush against ‘em will do the business. Rush on, then! Let those stand
back who are afraid. Let those who are not afraid, try who shall be the first to pass that there public doorway.
Barnaby rushes forward, waving his flag and shouting hurrahs. Conway and the Sergeant exchange confused glances,
then the Sergeant moves to take the flag from Barnaby. Barnaby struggles and knocks him down. Hugh grabs the
Sergeant’s fallen sword and stabs Conway. As the stunned crowd sees Conway fall to his knees, Hugh drops the sword and
starts to pull Barnaby away. But Barnaby falls as Conway orders his men to fire. Hugh and Simon flee through the
screaming mob, some of whom are struck by the loud volley from the “offstage” soldiers. Barnaby, bewildered, rises
slowly, only to be clubbed by the Sergeant. As the scene changes, he and the basketed Grip are taken offstage.
Act Five, Scene Three - The Boot Tavern
Narration: Hugh raced to the Boot Tavern and safety, but had not been there many minutes, when several groups of men
who had formed part of the crowd, came straggling in. Among them was Simon Tappertit.
Simon: (drinking ale) Don’t you consider this a good beginning, friend?
Hugh: Give me security that it an’t a ending When that soldier went down, by Barnaby’s hand, we might have made
London ours; but no, (in a tone of deep disgust) our people skulks away like a pack of tame curs as they are. Where is
Barnaby?
Gashford and Chester enter.
Gashford: Oh! you ARE here then? Dear me! The streets are filled with blue cockades. I rather thought you might have
been among them. I am glad you are not.
Simon: (bowing) Sir Chester! Master Gashford, we belong to the cause, don’t we?
Gashford: The cause! There is no cause. The cause is lost.
Hugh: Lost!
Chester: Oh yes. You have heard, I suppose? The petition is rejected by a hundred and ninety–two, to six. It’s quite final.
Gashford: We might have spared ourselves some trouble. That, and my lord’s vexation, are the only circumstances I regret.
I am quite satisfied in all other respects.
Simon: What would you have us do, master!
Gashford: (shrugging) Nothing --- nothing. When my lord was reproached and threatened for standing by you, I, as a
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 20
prudent man, would have had you do nothing. When the soldiers were shooting your compatriots and trampling them under
their horses’ feet, I would have had you do nothing. When a valiant one of them was struck down by a daring hand, and I saw
confusion and dismay in all their faces, I would have had you do nothing — just what you did, in short.
Chester: That young man who had so little prudence and so much boldness — Barnaby Rudge, I believe, though I wasn’t
present at the sordid affair... Ah! I am sorry for him.
Hugh: Sorry, master!
Chester: Oh, you didn’t hear perhaps... He was duly arrested — and faces hanging for his defiance of the Riot Act.
Gashford: Yet if there should be a proclamation out tomorrow, offering five hundred pounds, or some such trifle, for the
apprehension of the other man, who assisted his assault on General Conway (coldly) Still, I would have you do nothing.
Hugh: (starting up) Fire and fury, master! What have we done, that you should talk to us like this!
Chester: (sneering) Nothing. If, my centaur, you are cast into prison; if the young man has been dragged from you and from
his friends; perhaps from people whom he loves, and whom his death would kill; is thrown into jail, brought out and hanged
before their eyes; still, do nothing.
Gashford: You’ll find it your best policy, I have no doubt.
Hugh: (striding towards the door) Come on! Captain — come on!
Simon: (unsure, blocking Hugh’s way) Where? To do what?
Hugh: Anywhere! Anything! Stand aside, Captain, or follow!
Chester: (suddenly with the utmost good fellowship) Ha ha ha! You are of such — of such an impetuous nature. Such an
excitable creature.
Gashford: I hear that the men who are loitering in the streets tonight are half disposed to pull down a Romish chapel or two,
and that they only want leaders.
Hugh: No jails and halters for Barnaby and me. They must be frightened out of that. Leaders are wanted, are they? Now
boys! Let us start at Warwick Street; there’s a chapel to be looted there! (He charges out, followed by the Bulldogs and,
lastly, Simon.)
Gashford: Well! I think this looks a little more like business!
Chester looks impatiently at Gashford and exits.
Act Five, Scene Four - Newgate Prison.
Narration: Mr. Haredale’s delivered prisoner, left to himself in Newgate Prison, would sit upon the hard floor: and (resting
his elbows on his knees, and his chin upon his hands) remain in that attitude for hours. But one day, his solitary hours were
broken by the visit of an old associate.
Dennis, the head jailer, admits Stagg. Then shuts the door and exits.
Stagg: This is bad, (whispers the name) Rudge. This is bad. (The prisoner shuffles his feet upon the ground in turning his
body from him, but makes no other answer.) How were you taken? And where?
Rudge: At my wife’s old house in London. Where I thought to hide. Yet I was taken by the very man I thought to hide
from. By Haredale. I heard the Bell as he struck me down.
He shivers; paces quickly up and down the narrow cell; and sits down again, in his old posture.
Stagg: (after a pause) You heard a Bell—
Rudge: No, I heard the Bell… Let it be, will you? It hangs there yet
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 21
Stagg: You might have thrown him down, or stabbed him.
Rudge: Might I? Between that man and me, was one who led him on — I saw it, though he did not — and raised above his
head a bloody hand. HE and I stood glaring at each other on the night of the murder, and before he fell he raised his hand like
that, and fixed his eyes on me.
Stagg: (with a smile) You have a strong fancy...
Rudge: Strengthen yours with blood, and see what it will come to. (He groans, and rocks himself, and looking up for the
first time, speaks, in a low, hollow voice. This may be re-enacted, on another part of the stage, as he tells the tale.) Eight–
and–twenty years!... Fancy! Do I fancy that I killed him? Do I fancy that as I left the chamber where he lay, I saw the face of
a man peeping from a dark door, who plainly suspected what I had done? Do I remember that I spoke fairly to him — that I
drew nearer — nearer yet — with the hot knife in my sleeve? Do I fancy how HE died? It was then I thought, for the first
time, of fastening the murder upon him. It was then I dressed him in my clothes, and dragged him down the back–stairs to
the piece of water. Do I remember listening to the bubbles that came rising up when I had rolled him in? Did I go home when
I had done? And oh, my God! Did I stand before my wife, and tell her? Did I see her fall upon the ground? Is THAT fancy?
Did she go down upon her knees, and call on Heaven to witness that she and her unborn child renounced me from that hour;
and did she warn me to fly while there was time; for though she would be silent, being my wretched wife, she would not
shelter me? Did I go forth that night, abjured of God and man, and anchored deep in hell, to wander at my cable’s length
about the earth, and surely be drawn down at last?
Stagg: Why did you return?
Rudge: I was a man who had been twenty–two years dead. I was not known.
Stagg: You should have kept your secret better.
Rudge: My secret? Mine? It was a secret, any breath of air could whisper at its will. It lurked in strangers’ faces, and their
voices. Everything had lips on which it always trembled. — MY secret!
Stagg: It was revealed by your own act at any rate... Your return to that graveyard, on that night…
Rudge: The act was not mine. Did I like to go there, or did I strive and wrestle with the power that forced me?
The blind man shrugs his shoulders, and smiles incredulously.
Stagg: I suppose then that you are penitent and resigned; that you desire to make peace with everybody (in particular, with
your wife who has brought you to this); and that you ask no greater favor than to be hung as soon as possible?
Rudge: (fiercely) What?! Has my whole life, for eight–and–twenty years, been one perpetual struggle and resistance, and do
you think I want to lie down and die?
Stagg: Rudge — but I’ll not call you that again --- Lookye — I am only anxious that you shouldn’t die unnecessarily. Your
worthy lady with the tender conscience; your scrupulous, virtuous, but not blindly affectionate wife is in London.
Rudge: A curse upon her, be she where she may! How do you know?
Stagg: From my friend the noble captain — the illustrious general — the bladder, Mr. Tappertit. And I learnt from him
yesterday, that your son Barnaby had been lured away from her by one of his companions who knew him of old, at Chigwell;
and that he is now arrested, for attacking a soldier.
Rudge: And what is that to me? If father and son be hanged together, what comfort shall I find in that?
Stagg: (with a cunning look) Suppose I track my lady out, and say thus much: “Madam, a person said to be your husband
is in prison — the charge against him, murder. Now, ma’am, your husband has been dead a long, long time. If you will say,
on oath, when he died, and how; and that this person is no more he than I am, I will undertake to help your son (a fine lad) out
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 22
of harm’s way. I know the truth about those who dragged him into the riot, their names and whereabouts. If you decline to do
so, I fear the law will assuredly sentence him to suffer death.”
Rudge: There is a gleam of hope in this!
Dennis, appears at the door.
Dennis: It’s time for visitors to leave the jail.
Stagg: (meekly) Cheer up, friend. This mistaken identity will soon be set at rest, and then you are a man again! Thank you,
good sir.
Dennis escorts Stagg out of the cell. The iron door clangs shut behind them. Rudge drops to his knees, seemingly fearful
of the very air around him.
Act Five, Scene Five - The Golden Key.
Narration: The clock was on the stroke of one, when Gabriel Varden, with his lady and Miss Miggs, sat waiting in the little
parlor, above the Golden Key.
(Miss Miggs, having arrived at that restless state and sensitive condition of the nervous system which are the result of long
watching, constantly rubs and tweaks her nose, perpetually changes position, incessantly emits small coughs, groans,
gasps, sighs, sniffs... At last, Gabriel erupts.)
Varden: Miggs, my good girl, go to bed — do go to bed. I can’t bear it.
The clock strikes two, and there is a sound at the street door, as if somebody has fallen against the knocker by accident. Miss
Miggs immediately jumps up and claps her hands.
Miggs: Ally Looyer, mim! there’s Simmuns’s now!
Sim enters. Disheveled, weak from heat and fatigue; begrimed with mud and dust, he stalks haughtily into the parlor, and
throws himself into a chair, and surveys the household with a gloomy dignity.
Gabriel: (gravely) Simon, how comes it that you return home at this time of night, and in this condition? Give me an
assurance that you have not been among the rioters, and I am satisfied. You have been drinking.
Simon: (with great self-possession) In the most offensive sense of the word, sir, I consider you a liar. But in that last
observation you have unintentionally, sir, struck upon the truth.
Gabriel: (with a sorrowful shake of his head, but still smiling at Sim) Martha, I trust it may turn out that this poor lad is not
the victim of the knaves and fools we have so often had words about. If he has been at Warwick Street or Duke Street tonight
— and it could be proved against him, Martha, your Great Association would have been to him the cart that draws men to the
gallows and leaves them hanging in the air.
Mrs. Varden is scared by Simon’s altered manner and appearance. Miss Miggs wrings her hands, and weeps.
Simon: (sternly) He was not at Duke Street, or at Warwick Street, G. Varden, but he WAS at Westminster. Perhaps, sir, he
kicked a county member, perhaps, sir, he tapped a lord — you may stare, sir, I repeat it — blood flowed from noses, and
perhaps he tapped a lord. Who knows? This --- (putting his hand into his waistcoat–pocket, and taking out a large tooth) this
was a bishop’s tooth! (Miggs and Mrs. Varden scream at the sight.) Beware, G. Varden!
Gabriel: (hastily) You idiot, do you know what peril you stand in?
Simon: It is my glory!
Gabriel: (with agitation) Get to bed, and sleep for a couple of hours that you may wake penitent. (to Mrs. Varden) He has
lived in this house, man and boy, for a dozen years, and I should be sorry if for this one day’s work he made a miserable end.
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 23
Quick, Simon! Get to bed! Take him, Miggs!
Mrs. Varden: Yes, yes, oh do!
Miggs: Come to to bed directly!
Simon: (swaying on his feet) You spoke of Miggs, sir — Miggs may be smothered!
Miggs: (in a faint voice) Oh Simmun!
Simon: This family may ALL be smothered, sir, excepting Mrs V. I have come here, sir, for her sake, this night.
(conspiratorially) Mrs Varden, chalk ”No Popery” on your door tomorrow night… That’s all… It’s a protection, ma’am…
You may need it. (too loudly, to Gabriel) Be warned in time, G. Varden. Farewell!
The two women throw themselves in his way — especially Miss Miggs, who pins him against the wall.
Simon: I tell you that my mind is made up. My bleeding country calls me and I go! Miggs, if you don’t get out of the way,
I’ll pinch you. (Miggs clings to him and screams, as he struggles to free himself) I have made arrangements for you in an
altered state of society, and mean to provide for you comfortably in life — there! Will that satisfy you?
Miggs: Oh Simmun! Oh my blessed Simmun! Oh mim! What are my feelings at this conflicting moment!
Gabriel: (in the doorway) I’ll knock you down if you come near this door
They grapple while the women scream. Then Simon pretends to fall backwards and when Gabriel goes to help him, rushes
out the door.
Gabriel: (out of breath from the struggle) Go thy ways, Sim I have done my best for thee, poor lad, and would have saved
thee, but the rope is round thy neck, I fear.
Mrs. Varden now hides under her chair the little red–brick dwelling–house with the yellow roof. Gabriel catches her
movement and extends a hand for it. Mrs. Varden produces it, with many tears.
Mrs. Varden: Gabriel, if I could have known —
Gabriel: Yes, yes, of course — I know that, my dear. But recollect from this time that all good things perverted to evil
purposes, are worse than those which are naturally bad. Let us say no more about it, my dear.
He drops the red–brick dwelling–house on the floor, and crushes it into pieces. The halfpence, and sixpences, and other
voluntary contributions, roll about in all directions, but nobody offers to touch them, or to take them up.
Gabriel: That is easily disposed of, and I would to Heaven that everything growing out of the same society could be settled
as easily. So pleasant dreams to you, my dear, and cheerful sleep!
He gives his wife a hearty kiss. Mrs. Varden quite amiably and meekly walks upstairs. Miggs remains.
Miggs: (musing fondly to herself) My blessed Simmun promises to provide for me comfortably in life…
Act Six, Scene One - Sunday. At the Boot.
Narration: Long after the sunrise of the next day, Hugh arose, at what had become the headquarters of the Bulldog
company of the G.P.A. --- the Boot Tavern, in its rather remote and isolated vicinity of the town proper.
Hugh rises from the table on which he has been sleeping, and supports his aching head upon his hand. He crosses over to
where Sim sleeps, amid a pile of Bulldogs, and raises his snoring head; drops it again onto the pile. Gashford enters.
Hugh: Good day, master! Is this better? You’ve heard of the burnings and plunderings of the chapels last night? Some
Papist heads were cracked. Is this more to your liking?
Gashford: No It is not.
Hugh: What would you have? We cannot kill ‘em all at once...
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 24
Gashford: I would have you put some meaning into your work. Fools! Can you make no better bonfires than of rags and
scraps? Can you burn nothing whole?
Hugh: A little patience, master. Wait but a few hours, and you shall see. Look for a redness in the sky, tonight, down
Chigwell way...
Gashford: You know the news, then? Yes, I supposed you would have heard it.
Hugh: News! what news?
Gashford: You don’t? (raising his eyebrows) Dear me! Come; then I AM the first to make you acquainted with your
distinguished position, after all. (He takes a large paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and holds it out for Hugh’s inspection.)
It is a proclamation from the King in Council, offering a reward of five hundred pounds to anyone who will discover the
person or persons most active in demolishing those chapels...
Hugh: (with an indifferent air) Is that all? I knew of that.
Gashford: (smiling, and folding up the document) Ah! Your aristocratic friend, I might have guessed, was sure to tell you.
Hugh: (with an unsuccessful effort to appear surprised) What friend?
Gashford: Tut tut — do you suppose I don’t know where you have been? (rubbing his hands, and beating the back of one
on the palm of the other, and looking at him with a cunning eye) How dull you think me! Shall I say his titled name? Sir
John Ches--Hugh: No.
Gashford: You have also heard from him, no doubt, that the rioters who have been taken (poor fellows) are committed for
trial, and that some very active witnesses will have the temerity to appear against them. (clenching his teeth, as if he would
suppress by force some violent words that rose upon his tongue) Among others, a Catholic gentleman; one Haredale.
Hugh: (suddenly gathering his staff, etc.) Then the first great step is to make examples of these witnesses, and frighten all
men from ever appearing against any of our body...
Gashford: (laying a hand upon the arm of Hugh, said, in a cramped whisper) Do not, my good friend, forget our talk one
night about this person. Fire, the saying goes, is a good servant, but a bad master. Makes it HIS master; he deserves no better.
Remember --- he thirsts for your lives, and those of all your brave and slow-witted companions. Won’t you, Hugh? For --what’s the fellow’s name --- Barnaby, if not for yourself?
Hugh looks at him; then brandishes his staff above his head, picks up the groggy Sim, throws him over his shoulder and
hurries out. Gashford playfully salutes him as he leaves.
Act Six, Scene Two - The Maypole Inn. Willet and his cronies sit before the fire.
Narration: That same night, John Willet was arguing with his three cronies at the Maypole Inn. Gone (and secretly much
missed by him) were the evenings when old John was could vent his argumentative nature on his son, Joe. For Joe had
joined the king’s army, to fight in the American war, five years ago. And had not been heard from since.
Willet: (looking hard at Daisy) Do you think, sir, that I’m a born fool?
Daisy: No, no We all know better than that. You’re no fool, Johnny.
Cobb and Parkes: (shaking their heads and muttering) No, no, Johnny, not you!
Willet: Then what do you mean by telling me that this evening you’re a–going to ride up to London together and have the
evidence of your own senses? (putting his pipe in his mouth with an air of solemn disgust) Don’t I tell you that His blessed
Majesty King George the Third would not stand a rioting and rollicking in his streets? Do you suppose if this was true, that
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 25
Mr. Haredale would be away from home, as he is? Do you think he wouldn’t be afraid to leave his house with them two
young women, Miss Emma and Mr. Varden’s daughter, in it?
Daisy: But the Warren, is a goodish way out of London, and the story goes that the rioters don’t leave the city.
Willet: (testily) The story goes! --- The story goes that you saw a ghost. But nobody believes it.
Daisy: Well! (as his two friends titter) It’s true! --- and true or not, if we mean to go to London, we must be going. We’ll go
off the main road for a ways, to be safe. So shake hands, Johnny, and good night.
Willet: (putting his hands in his pockets) I shall shake hands with no man as goes to London on such nonsensical errands.
They accordingly shake his elbows, bid him good night, and leave.
Narration: John Willet looked after them; and laughed at their folly. Then he sat himself comfortably (indeed, he puts his
legs upon a stool, then his apron over his face), and fell sound asleep. When he awoke, a few bright stars were already
twinkling overhead. Was there a sound in the air?
A mob rushes into the Maypole. Willet is bandied from hand to hand, in the heart of a crowd of men, which includes Hugh
and Simon Tappertit.
Hugh: (cleaving through the throng) Halloa! Where is he? Give him to me. Don’t hurt him. How now, old Jack! Ha ha ha!
(Willet looks at him, but says --- and perhaps only thinks --- nothing.) These lads are thirsty and must drink!! (Willet is
quickly tied to his chair.)
Willet: (faintly) Who’s to pay?
Hugh: (with a roar of laughter) Who’s to pay? Pay! Why, nobody.
Narration: John stared round at the mass of faces — and soon found himself watching the destruction of his property, as if
it were some queer play or entertainment.
Willet: (a confused aside, as the destruction occurs around him, largely via sound effects of crashes, breakage, smashing,
etc.) Here was my bar — crammed with men, clubs, sticks, torches, pistols; filled with a deafening noise, oaths, shouts,
screams, hootings; men darting in and out, by door and window, smashing glass, turning taps, drinking liquor, smoking
pipes, breaking open drawers, putting things in their pockets --- my things --- which didn’t belong to them, dividing my own
money before my eyes, wantonly wasting, breaking, pulling down and tearing up: men everywhere: yelling, singing,
fighting: swarming on like insects: noise, smoke, light, darkness, frolic, anger, laughter, groans, plunder, fear, and ruin!
While John looked on at this bewildering scene, Hugh keeps near him.
Hugh: Look’ee here, Jack! (after shaking John, without effect) You won’t be hurt. D’ye hear? You won’t be hurt I tell
you… (roaring and smacking Willet’s back) — do you hear me? He’s so dead scared, he’s woolgathering, I think.
Willet: (looking vacantly around) I believe there’s a trifle of broken glass —
Hugh: (shaking his head, as he drinks defiantly in front of Willet’s face) Forward! (the mob echoes the cry) To the Warren!
A witness’s house, my lads! Grab the women and what else you please and torch the rest! Burn it to ashes, my boys!!! No
Popery!!! (The mob is as suddenly gone as they arrived, whooping and screaming, mad for pillage and destruction.)
Act Six, Scene Three - On the road to London.
Narration: The Maypole cronies struck through the Forest path upon their way to London. They made inquiries of the
people whom they passed, concerning the riots. All accounts agreed that the mob were out, and that the streets were unsafe.
They dismounted at a turnpike–gate, when a horseman rode up from London at a hard gallop on the other side, and called in
a voice of great agitation.
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 26
Haredale: Open quickly, in the name of God! (He appears, having left his horse on the other side of the gate.)
Daisy: Mr. Haredale!
Parkes: (turning to look back in the direction they’ve come from) Good Heaven, what’s that?
Cobb: A fire!
Narration: At this, they turned their heads, and saw in the distance — in the direction of the Maypole or beyond — a broad
sheet of flame, casting a threatening light upon the clouds, which glimmered with the conflagration, and showed like a
wrathful sunset.
Haredale: My mind misgives me, or I know from what far building those flames come. Quick, friends, help me open the
gate for my horse!
Parkes: Sir, Mr. Haredale, be advised by us; do not go on. We’ve heard of ruffians passing this way, and suspect what kind
of men they are.
Cobb: You will be murdered, sir!
Haredale: So be it! (looking intently towards the fire)
Daisy: No! (as the three friends press round him) Mr. Haredale — worthy sir — good gentleman — pray be persuaded.
Daisy: Do not go, sir.
Cobb: You cannot face them alone.
Parkes: They are out to do mischief to Catholics, sir.
Haredale: (after a moment’s thought) Then my niece and servants and Miss Varden are in danger. Will you come with me?
I may need witnesses.
Daisy: Us, sir?
Parkes and Cobb: We’ll all go with you, sir! (They exit.)
Act Six, Scene Four - The Maypole Inn.
Narration: In an instant they were riding away, at full gallop. It was well their horses knew the road they traversed, for
never once did Mr. Haredale, leading, cast his eyes upon the ground, or turn them, for an instant, from the light towards
which they sped so madly. But on, on, on, till they reached the Maypole door, and could plainly see that the nearby fire
began to fade, as if for want of fuel.
Haredale: Willet — Willet — where are my niece and servants — Willet!
Crying to him distractedly, Haredale rushes into the bar. — The landlord bound and fastened to his chair; the place
dismantled, stripped, and pulled about his ears. Daisy and the others follow.
Daisy: Johnny, Johnny
Parkes: Here’s a change!
Cobb: That the Maypole bar should come to this, and we should live to see it!
Haredale: Willet — did my niece and the others escape to you? Are they safe here somewhere?
Cobb: You know us, don’t you, Johnny?
Daisy: Daisy, you know — Chigwell Church — bell–ringer — eh, Johnny?
Willet: (muttering) Let us sing to the praise and glory of —
Parkes: Say you’re all right, Johnny.
Cobb: (with a very anxious glance at Mr. Willet’s head) They didn’t beat you, did they?
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 27
Willet: (shaking his head, in tears) If they’d only had the goodness to murder me, I’d have thanked ‘em kindly.
Daisy: (whimpering) No, don’t say that, Johnny It’s very, very bad, but not quite so bad as that. No, no!
Haredale: Have you seen, or heard of Emma?
Willet: No!
Haredale: Nor anyone but these bloodhounds?
Willet: No!
Haredale: They rode away, I trust in Heaven, before these dreadful scenes began
Narration: Abruptly, Mr. Haredale, left, mounted his horse, and flew rather than galloped towards the pile of ruins. Once
there, he dismounted, and stole softly along the footpath, and into what had been the garden of his house. He stopped for an
instant to look upon its smoking walls, and at the stars that shone through roof and floor upon the heap of crumbling ashes.
Not a tear, a look, or gesture indicating grief, escaped him.
Haredale: (drawing his sword) Is there any one in hiding here, who knows my voice?!... There is nothing to fear now…. If
any of my people are near, I entreat them to answer! Miss Varden! Emma!
Narration: He was kneeling near the foot of the turret, where the alarm–bell hung. The fire had raged there; but a part of the
staircase still remained, winding upward from a great mound of dust and cinders. Yet the bell still hung on a fragment of
stone, and now sounded dismally amid the few night breezes.
INTERMISSION
Act Seven, Scene One – Newgate Prison.
Narration: The Newgate Prison cell, in which the manacled Barnaby had been locked, was very dark, and by no means
clean. Barnaby felt his way to some straw at the farther end, and tried to accustom himself to the gloom. He then became
aware that two men were conversing very near the door of his cell.
Sergeant: I’ll tell you, Tom Green, I wish that I was an officer, and had the command of two companies — only two
companies — of my own regiment. Call me out to stop these riots — give me the needful authority, and half–a–dozen
rounds of ball cartridge —
Tom Green: Ay! That’s all very well, Sergeant, but the magistrates won’t give the needful authority.
Sergeant: Where’s the use of a magistrate? Here’s a proclamation. Here’s a man referred to in that proclamation. Here’s
proof against him, and a witness on the spot. Damme! Take him out and shoot him, sir. Who wants a magistrate?
Barnaby, who knows that this conversation concerns himself, peeps through the bars. The one who condemned the civil
power in such strong terms, is a sergeant. The other man has his back towards the dungeon, and Barnaby can only see his
form. He seems a young, gallant, manly, handsome fellow, but he has lost his left arm --- taken off between the elbow and the
shoulder, and his empty coat–sleeve hangs across his breast. There is something soldierly in his bearing.
Tom Green: (thoughtfully) Well, let the fault be where it may, it makes a man sorrowful to come back to old England, and
see her in this condition. (Grip gives a croak in his basket, beside the sergeant.)
Sergeant: I suppose the pigs will join ‘em next, now that the birds have set ‘em the example.
Tom Green: The birds!
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 28
Sergeant: Aye! --- In this basket here, there’s a raven that’s got their cry as pat as any of ‘em, and bawls ‘No Popery,’ like
a devil, as he says he is. Damme if I wouldn’t twist his neck round, if I had MY way.
Barnaby: It’s mine (half laughing and half weeping) --- My pet, my friend Grip. Ha ha ha! Don’t hurt him, he has done
no harm. I taught him; it’s my fault. Let me have him, if you please. He’s the only friend I have left now. You wouldn’t hurt
a poor bird, I’m sure.
Sergeant: Oh, damn you for the thief and rebel that you are; I assure you, if it rested with me to decide, I’d put a final
stopper on the bird — and his master too. (He exits.)
Barnaby: (angry) You talk boldly to a caged man If I was on the other side of the door and there were none to part us,
you’d change your note! (He flings himself into the furthest corner of his prison, and mutters tearfully.) Good bye, Grip —
good bye, dear old Grip!
Keeping his face unseen, Tom Green opens the basket, takes out Grip, and passes him through the bars.
Narration: The one-armed man, his head covered and turned from Barnaby’s gaze — thrust in Grip through the bars, who,
with his head drooping and his deep black plumes rough and rumpled, appeared to comprehend and to partake his master’s
fallen fortunes.
Act Seven, Scene Two – The Boot Tavern.
Emma and Dolly, bound with hands behind them, gagged, with cloth bags over their heads, are brought by Hugh into a bare
room, with a single stool as the furnishings.
Narration: Following their abduction from the flames of Emma Haredale’s home, that terrified young woman, and the
equally bound and silenced Dolly Varden, were brought to an upstairs room of the Boot Tavern. Blindfolded and thrust
into a galloping coach for miles, they had no idea where they’d now been taken, nor why. But they were all-too-well aware
of the man who had led their kidnappers, and lit the first torch to the Warren.
Hugh: Ah, my brave birds --- here’s your cage for the moment. (taking off their hoods) Delicate birds — tender, loving,
little doves. Now, not a peep out of you, my chicks. Not that any screams would help you. This place is remote, no
windows in this room, well watched on every side, and none of the fellows guarding it care for you as much as I. (as he frees
Emma, and then Dolly from their gags) Ha ha ha! and did you scratch, and pinch, and struggle, pretty mistress? (Dolly
struggles as he attempts to kiss her; he laughs and throws her down to the floor.) Come! There’s enough of that. If you
want to be untied, you’ll stay quiet ‘til I return. (He exits and murmuring is heard outside the door.)
Emma: Dolly, has he hurt you? Where have they taken us? We were hours in that coach. And they’ve burned the
Warren to the ground, surely.
Dolly: Dear Emma, from what I could hear, I think they’ve hidden us somewhere in London, on the edges of town. The
soldiers are sure to come… We must be rescued, I know it; we must be released… (bursting into tears) But what will they
do or think? Who will comfort them, at home --- at the Golden Key? Or your uncle?
Emma: (trying to quiet her) Dolly, dear Dolly, if we remain quiet and lull the vigilance of these ruffians, our chances of
procuring assistance will be very much increased. My uncle will never rest until he has found and rescued us. Would that
my dear Edward were in England, and knew of our plight…
Dolly: And Joe — poor, fond, slighted Joe! What a brave fellow he was, and how he would have rode boldly up, and
dashed in among these villains now --- yes, though they were double the number...
Hugh suddenly enters and takes a seat between them. They start to cry for help, but he puts his arm about their necks.
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 29
Hugh: Now, now, my lovelies --- you must be silent as the grave or I swear I shall stifle you with kisses... (They shrink from
his touch; he unties Dolly’s hands and she pushes at him.) So don’t be quiet, pretty mistresses — make a noise — do — and
I shall like it all the better. (Dolly kneels beside her friend, and unties her.)
Emma: Why have you brought us here? Are we to be murdered?
Hugh: Murdered! (sitting down upon the stool, and regarding her with great favor) No, no There’ll be no murdering, my
pets. Nothing of that sort. Quite the contrairy.
Emma: (trembling) Have you no pity for us? Do you not consider that we are women?
Hugh: I do indeed, my dear. It would be very hard not to. (He leers and laughs. Emma faints.) She’s fainted. (growling) So
much the better She’s quiet. Look ye, pretty bird (drawing Dolly towards him) Remember what I told you — a kiss for
every cry. Scream, if you love me, darling.
Mr. Tappertit suddenly enters; at sight of whom Dolly utters a scream of joy, and throws herself into his arms.
Dolly: I knew it, I was sure of it! My dear father’s at the door. Thank God, thank God! Bless you, Sim. Heaven bless you for
this!
Hugh responds with a loud laugh, which makes Dolly draw back to Emma, and regard Sim with a fixed and earnest look. He
appears embarrassed.
Simon: (after a very awkward silence) Miss Haredale, I hope you’re as comfortable as circumstances will permit of. Dolly
Varden, my darling — my own, my lovely one — I hope YOU’RE pretty comfortable likewise.
Seeing how it is, Dolly hides her face in her hands; and sobs more bitterly than ever.
Simon: You meet in me, Miss V., (laying his hand upon his breast) not a ‘prentice, not the wictim of your father’s tyrannical
behavior, but the captain of a noble band. You behold in me, not a mender of locks, but a healer of the wounds of his
unhappy country. Dolly V., sweet Dolly V., for how many years have I looked forward to this! Behold in me, your husband.
Yes, beautiful Dolly — charmer — enslaver — S. Tappertit is all your own!
He advances towards her. Dolly grabs his hair.
Dolly: (amidst her tears) You’re a dreadful little wretch, and always have been!!!
She shakes, pulls, and beats him.
Simon: (most lustily) Help! Help! Help, help, help!!!
Hugh parts them, admiring Dolly all the more.
Simon: (soothing his ruffled feathers) She’s in an excited state tonight and don’t know when she’s well off. They shall
remain locked in here together till tomorrow. Come away!
Hugh: Ay! Come away, captain. Ha ha ha!
Simon: Ladies, you’ll hear more of our intentions tomorrow. In the meantime, make no cries for aid; for if you do, it’ll be
known directly that you come from a Catholic house, and all the exertions our men can make may not be able to save your
lives.
He turns to the door, followed by Hugh --- who pauses for a moment, going out, to look at them clasped in each other’s
arms, and then leaves the room.
Act Seven, Scene Two A – The courtyard of Newgate Prison.
Narration: Mr. Dennis, the Newgate head jailer, unlocked the door of Rudge’s cell, set it wide open, informing its inmate:
Dennis: You’re at liberty to walk in the adjacent yard for an hour. Mind, there are guards on sides. So no slyness with the
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 30
other prisoners.
Narration: It was a dull, square yard, made cold and gloomy by high walls, and seeming to chill the very sunlight. The
stone, so bare, and rough, and obdurate. The prisoner’s attention was suddenly attracted by a familiar voice, in song.
Barnaby is singing and strolls backwards, with Grip following. A croak from the raven causes Barnaby to turn and see the
other man. The father recognizes his son. They stand, staring at each other, as Grip hops and croaks around them. Rudge is
shrinking and cowed, despite himself; Barnaby struggles with his imperfect memory, wondering where he has seen that face
before. Then Barnaby suddenly grabs his father, and striving to bear him to the ground, cries:
Barnaby: Ah! I know! You are the robber!
(Rudge struggles with him silently, at first; then, finding the younger man too strong for him, he raises his face, and looks
close into his eyes.)
Rudge: I am your father! Do you hear?! Your father.
(Barnaby releases his hold, falls back, and looks at him aghast. Suddenly he springs towards him, puts his arms about his
neck, and presses his head against his cheek.)
Barnaby: Yes, yes, you are; I am sure you are. But where have you been so long, and why did you leave my mother by
herself? Or worse than by herself, with me, her poor foolish boy? And was my mother really once as happy as they said?
And where is she? Is she near here? She is not happy now, and you in jail? Ah, no.
Narration: Not a word was said in answer; but Grip croaked loudly, and hopped about them, round and round, as if
enclosing them in a magic circle, and invoking all the powers of mischief.
Act Seven, Scene Three – The tavern room of the Boot.
Narration: Indeed, those very mischievious powers may have been viewed at that moment in the more remote sections of
London, at the hideaway of the United Bulldogs --- the Boot Tavern.
As Hugh and Sim enter from the upstairs, the Bulldogs and Stagg are drinking, nervous, some guarding the door and
windows.
Hugh: Has anyone of you heard where they’ve taken Barnaby? Which prison? (looking round him) Has any man seen or
heard of him?
Simon: Stagg, you’ve just rejoined my troops. Have you seen him? (an odd question to a blind man…)
Stagg: Ah, my most fine-limbed Captain, there’s a stranger without who’s been asking for --- Hugh. Says he knows of the
halfwit. But he’s not known to us. We’ve kept him guarded.
Hugh: He is but one man --- let him come in.
The Bulldog goes to the door and signals. A one–armed man, with his head and face tied up with a bloody cloth, as though
he had been severely beaten, his clothes torn, and his remaining hand grasping a thick stick, rushes in among them.
One-Armed Man: Which --- which is Hugh?
Hugh: I am. What do you want with me?
One-Armed Man: I have a message You know one Barnaby.
Hugh: What of him? Did he send the message?
One-Armed Man: Yes. He’s taken. In a Newgate cell by now. He defended himself as well as he could, but was
overpowered by numbers. That’s his message.
Hugh: (suspiciously) When did you see him?
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 31
One-Armed Man: On his way to prison, where he was taken by soldiers. I was one of the few who tried to rescue him, and
he called to me, and told me to tell Hugh where he was. We made a good struggle, though it failed. (He points to his dress
and to his bandaged head.) That Barnaby’s a bold fellow. He fought like a lion, but it was of no use. I did my best,
considering that I want this limb. (He glances inquisitively round the room, his face nearly hidden by the bandage.)
Stagg: If we bear this tamely, another day will see us all in jail!!
Another Bulldog: If we’d stood our ground and rescued him right there, this would not have happened.
Yet Another: Who’ll follow me to Newgate?!!!
There are shouts and a general rush towards the door. But Simon stands in their way.
Simon: Brothers, to go now, in broad day, would be madness; but if we wait until night, with an ingenious plan of my own
devision to attack, we may release, not only Barnaby, but all the prisoners, and burn Newgate down.
Hugh: We’ll burn every jail in London. They shall have no place to put their prisoners in. Here! Let all who’re men here,
join with us. Shake hands upon it. Barnaby out of jail, and not a jail left standing! Who joins? (The crowd cheers lustily as
the lights fade. And the one-armed man slips away.)
Act Seven, Scene Four - The Golden Key
Narration: It was about six o’clock in the evening, when a vast mob poured into Lincoln’s Inn Fields by every avenue,
designed for the attack on Newgate. Hugh with Simon Tappertit led the way. Roaring and chafing like an angry sea, the
crowd pressed after them. Instead of going straight down Holborn to the jail, as all expected, their leaders took the way to
Clerkenwell, and pouring down a quiet street, halted before a locksmith’s house — the Golden Key.
Hugh: Beat at the door. We want one of his craft tonight. Beat it in, if no one answers.
Narration: The shop was shut. Both door and shutters were of a strong and sturdy kind, and they knocked without effect.
But the impatient crowd raising a cry of ‘Set fire to the house!’ the door was suddenly thrown open, and the stout old
locksmith stood before them, armed and defiant.
Gabriel: What now, you villains! Where is my daughter?
Hugh: (waving his comrades to be silent) Ask no questions of us, old man, but put down your weapon and come with us --and bring the tools of your trade. We want you.
Gabriel: Mark me, my lad — and you about him do the same. There are a score among ye whom I see now and know, who
are dead men from this hour.
Hugh: Will you put down your gun?
Gabriel: Will you give me my daughter, ruffian?
Hugh: I know nothing of her Take him, men!
Gabriel: (firmly) Let the man who tries, take heed to his prayers. I warn him.
Hugh steps forward, with an oath, but is stopped by Miggs’ sudden scream.
Miggs: (appearing at a window, with a shrill and piercing shriek, fluttering a garment) Is Simmun below! Oh! Speak to me,
Simmun. Speak to me!
Simon: Miggs, hold your peace! We want your master, not you --- and will take no denial!!
Miggs: Oh good gentlemen! Oh my own precious, precious Simmun—
Simon: Hold your nonsense, will you! --- And G. Varden, drop that gun, or it will be worse for you.
Miggs: Don’t mind his gun --- I poured a mug of table–beer right down the barrel. It wouldn’t go off, not if you was to load
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 32
it up to the muzzle.
The crowd gives a loud shout, which is followed by a roar of laughter. After dealing a few stout blows about him, Gabriel
finds himself defenseless, in the midst of a furious crowd, and brought into the street.
Miggs: Simmun and gentlemen, I’ve been locked up here for safety, but my endeavors has always been, and always will be,
to be on the right side — the blessed side and to prenounce the Pope of Babylon!
Stagg comes forward from the crowd. The following lines may overlap Miggs words above…
Stagg: If he’s grabbed, Captain, take him to the nearest lamp-post and hang him. He’ll never do what we wish of him,
anyway.
But Gabriel is quite undaunted, and looks from Hugh to Simon Tappertit, who confront him.
Gabriel: You have robbed me of my daughter, who is far dearer to me than my life; and you may take my life, if you will. I
bless God that I have been enabled to keep my wife free of this scene; and that He has made me a man who will not ask
mercy at such hands as yours.
Hugh: (whispering and seizing Varden roughly by the shoulder) Don’t be a fool, master, but do as you’re bid. You’ll soon
hear what you’re wanted for. Do it!
Gabriel: I’ll do nothing at your request, or that of any scoundrel here
Voice in the Crowd (the disguised Joe): He has a grey head. He is an old man: Don’t hurt him!
Gabriel: (after turning with a start towards the voice) Pay no respect to my grey hair, young man My heart is green
enough to scorn and despise every man among you, band of robbers that you are!
Hugh: Remember, people, we want his services, and we must have them. (He elbows Simon.)
Sim: Lookye, Varden, we’re bound for Newgate Prison.
Gabriel: I know you are... You never said a truer word than that.
Sim: To burn it down, I mean, and force the gates, and set the prisoners at liberty. You helped to make the lock of the great
door. You must show us how to force it.
Gabriel: Must I!
Sim: Yes; for you know, and I don’t. You must come along with us, and pick it with your own hands.
Gabriel: (quietly) When I do, my hands shall drop off at the wrists, and you shall wear them, Simon Tappertit, on your
shoulders for epaulettes.
Hugh: We’ll see that You fill a basket with the tools he’ll want, while I bring him along. Help me with him, some of you.
A Bulldog: Is the young woman (who is making a terrible noise) to be released? (He exits to set her free.)
Sim: (crying after him) No, we need not let her out --Stagg: But the beautiful Miggs has done us good service in the matter of the gun, my brave Captain, has she not?
Sim: Yes, but --Miggs, having been released, enters the room, crosses to Sim and cries:
Miggs: My Simmuns’s life is not a wictim! (She drops into his arms with such promptitude that he staggers and reels some
paces back, beneath his lovely burden.)
Sim: Oh bother! --- Here. Catch hold of her, somebody. Lock her up again; she never ought to have been let out.
Miggs: My Simmun! (in tears, and faintly) My for ever, ever blessed Simmun!
Sim: Hold up, will you? I’ll let you fall if you don’t. What are you sliding your feet off the ground for?
Miggs: My angel Simmuns! --- he promised —
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 33
Sim: (testily) Promised! Well, and I’ll keep my promise I mean to provide for you, don’t I? Stand up!
Miggs: Where am I to go? What is to become of me after my actions of this night! What resting–places now remains but in
the silent tombses!
Sim: I wish you was in the silent tombses, I do --- and boxed up tight, in a good strong one. Here… (to one of the Bulldogs,
in whose ear he whispers for a moment) Take her off, will you. You understand where?
Narration: The fellow nodded; and taking her in his arms, notwithstanding her broken protestations (which cease as Sim
puts a gag in her mouth), and her struggles, carried her away. The mob once again poured out into the street; the locksmith
was taken to the head of the crowd, and required to walk between Hugh and Stagg; the whole body was put in rapid motion;
and they bore down straight on Newgate. (The crowd and the scene freezes as the narration continues.)
Act Seven, Scene Five – That night, following Mr. Haredale’s trail to Newgate and beyond.
Narration: Mr. Haredale, from the dawn of morning until sunset, had sought his niece in every place where he deemed it
possible she could have taken refuge. In every quarter he could think of, at Chigwell and in London, he pursued his search.
On this night, in his wanderings, he overheard whispers that the mob were attacking Newgate. Where that man was! Rudge!
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 slain his own brother?!! — 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 dense, dark, moving mass. Mr. Haredale was recognized. (Haredale struggles as
the disguised Edward and Joe grab him.)
Edward: Nay, nay --- be more yourself, my good sir. We attract attention here. Come away. These folk care not for men of
your faith.
Haredale: Leave me here, and in Heaven’s name, my good friend, save yourself!
Edward: What can you do among so many men?
Joe: The gentleman’s always for doing something --- (forcing Haredale along) I do like him for that.
Haredale: (faintly) What does this mean? How came we together?
Edward: We’re here to help another, captured by the mob. Then we saw you on the skirts of the rioters — but pray come
with us. You seem to know my friend here?
Haredale: (looking in a kind of stupor at the one-armed man) Surely.
Edward: He’ll tell you then that I am a man to be trusted. He’s my servant. But come with us, sir; pray come with us.
Narration: They safely accompanied him to a nearby alleyway, in the shadows and free of the mob. There, finally, they
pulled off what they wore upon their heads. Mr. Haredale saw before him, and gasped the names of --Haredale: Joe Willet --- and Edward Chester.
Joe: (softly) Give me your hand Don’t fear to shake it; it’s a friendly one, though it has no fellow. God bless you, sir. Take
heart, take heart. We’ll find them. Be of good cheer; we have not been idle. (Haredale and Edward exchange awkward
looks.) Times are changed, Mr. Haredale, and times have come when we ought to know friends from enemies. Let me tell
you that but for this gentleman, you would most likely have been dead by this time, or badly wounded at the best. It was Mr.
Edward’s sharp eyes that spotted you before that foul fellow did, and gotten you away from such dangers!
Haredale: What fellow?
Joe: That Hugh. He’s now a leader of the mob and seeks your death. And has spirited away your Miss Emma and Mr.
Varden’s daughter, Dolly.
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 34
Edward: But you should stay safely hidden here, sir. You are too exhausted and recognizable to be of aid to us. I swear to
you, we will deal with Maypole Hugh. And find out where he has hidden Emma and Dolly.
Joe: We’ve forewarned the military, and a trap’s been laid at the prison for Hugh and the mob. But they’ve now captured
Gabriel Varden, to pick the Newgate lock. And the stout old fellow has pledged to die rather than help them.
Edward: So we must return to the prison immediately, disguised as we’ve been for many nights. Stay here, Mr. Haredale;
we will fetch you once Varden is safe. (They leave him.)
Haredale: God bless you both, for you are surely guardian angels sent to us in our very hour of need.
Act Seven, Scene Six - The front gate of Newgate Prison.
Narration: The rioters raised a great cry as soon as they were ranged before the jail, and demanded to speak to the governor.
Before they had repeated their summons many times, a man appeared atop the wall of the great gate, and asked:
Dennis: My fellow citizens, loyal and obedient to our good king George, I’m sure --- what do you want here?
Sim: Are you Mr. Dennis, the head jailer?
Dennis: Yes, I am.
Stagg: You have got some friends of ours in your custody, master.
Dennis: I have a good many people in my custody.
Sim: Deliver up our friends and you may keep the rest.
Dennis: It’s my duty to keep them all. I shall do my duty.
Hugh: If you don’t throw the doors open, we shall break ‘em down, for we will have the rioters out. We will have Barnaby
Rudge set free! (The crowd roars Barnaby’s name.)
Dennis: Good people, you should disperse; the consequences of any disturbance in this place, will be very severe, and
bitterly repented by most of you, when it is too late.
Gabriel: Mr. Dennis... Mr. Dennis.
Dennis: (waving his hand) I will hear no more from any of you.
Gabriel: But I am not one of them; I am an honest man, Mr. Dennis; Gabriel Varden, the locksmith.
Dennis: (in an altered voice) You among the crowd!
Gabriel: Brought here by force — to pick the lock of the great door for them Bear witness for me, Mr. Dennis, that I
refuse to do it; come what may of my refusal. If any violence is done to me, please to remember this.
Dennis: (anxiously) Where is that man who spoke to me just now?
Hugh: Here!
Dennis: Do you know what the guilt of murder is, and that by keeping that honest tradesman at your side you endanger his
life!
Hugh: Let’s have our friends, master, and you shall have your friend. Is that fair, lads? (The crowd replies with a loud
hurrah!)
Gabriel: You see how it is, sir? Keep ‘em out, in King George’s name. You’ll do your duty, and I’ll do mine. (turning round
on them) Once again, you robbers and cut–throats, I refuse. Ah! Howl till you’re hoarse. I refuse!!
Stagg deals him a blow upon the face which fells him to the ground. But Gabriel springs up again like a man in the prime of
life, and with blood upon his forehead, catches him by the throat.
Gabriel: You cowardly dog! Give me my daughter. Give me my daughter.
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 35
They struggle together. Some cry ‘Kill him,’ and some strive to part them. Tug as Hugh can at the old man’s wrists, he
cannot force him to unclench his hands.
Gabriel: Give me my daughter! Give me my daughter!
Stagg, holding onto Varden’s arm, raises an evil knife to stab the locksmith’s chest. At that instant, and in the very act, the
blind man staggers and falls, impaled by his own re-directed blade; over his body a one–armed man darts to the locksmith’s
side. The disguised Edward (a costumed double for Ben Miller) is with him, and both catch the locksmith roughly in their
grasp.
One-Armed Man: Leave him to us! (to Hugh, struggling, as he speaks, to force a passage backward through the crowd)
Leave him to us. Why do you waste your whole strength on such as he, when a couple of men can finish him in as many
minutes! You lose time. Remember the prisoners! Remember Barnaby! (Edward and Joe bear away the semi-conscious
Varden.)
Narration: The cry ran through the mob. Hammers began to rattle on the walls. Strokes began to fall like hail upon the gate.
But there stood the portal still. Meanwhile, others besieged nearby houses, brought out furniture, and piled it up against the
prison–gate. Then fired the pile with torches. The door, although quickly a sheet of flame, was still a door fast locked and
barred, and kept them out. So now great pieces of blazing wood were passed above the people’s heads to such as Sim, who
stood atop ladders, and cast these fire–brands down into the yards within. The door sank down: it settled deeper in the
cinders — tottered — yielded — came down! Crashing down --- upon poor Captain Tappertit, his beautiful legs --- the
pride of his figure, crushed beneath the smoldering weight of the monstrous portal.
Instantly shots were fired from the soldiers on the other side, now revealed with muskets raised. Some wounded rioters
screamed in pain, and all fell back, for a moment, and left a clear space about the fire that lay between them and the jail
entry. Hugh leapt upon the blazing heap, and scattered a train of sparks into the air.
Hugh: No retreating now, lads!!! For Barnaby! The door’s down, now’s our chance to bring down the whole prison! No
Popery!!! No Pope--- (But he is shot down by the soldiers in mid-cry; the rest of the mob runs away, some carrying the
moaning Simon. The sergeant clubs Hugh senseless, as he tries to raise himself once again.)
Sergeant: You’ll go nowhere, you murd’rous brute, but in the very cells you meant to break. (giving orders) Men, reload
and form a line before the opening. If the cowards return, they’ll find us here all night, if need be. Someone carry this dog
within, to be collared and chained. He’ll hang soon enough.
Act Eight, Scene Two – The Boot.
Narration: Emma Haredale, and Dolly, lately joined by Miggs, remained cooped up together in what had now been their
prison for many days, hearing only the murmured conversation, in an outer room, of the men who kept watch over them.
They listened attentively. In the outer room, now and then, a moan seemed to be wrung from a person in great pain.
Miggs: (to Emma) It must be some misguided Papist who’s been wounded (under her breath) Ally Looyer! Ally Looyer!
Emma: (with some indignation) Is it possible that you who have seen these men committing the outrages you have told us
of, and who have fallen into their hands, like us, can exult in their cruelties!
Miggs: Personal considerations, miss, sinks into nothing, afore a noble cause. Ally Looyer, good gentlemen!
Emma: If the time has come when they are bent on prosecuting the designs with which they have brought us here, can you
still encourage, and take part with them?
Miggs: I thank my goodness–gracious–blessed–stars I can, miss. Ally Looyer, good gentlemen!
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 36
Dolly: Miggs, hold your tongue directly.
Miggs: WHICH, was you pleased to observe, Miss Varden?
Dolly: Hold your tongue! (Perhaps she slaps and/or shoves her.)
Miggs: (with hysterical derision) Ho, gracious me! Yes, to be sure I will. I am a abject slave, and a toiling, moiling,
constant–working, always–being–found–fault–with, never–giving–satisfactions, potter’s wessel — an’t I, miss! Ho yes! My
duties is to humble myself afore the base degenerating daughters of their blessed mothers — an’t it, miss! Ho yes!
Narration: There was a sudden violent knocking at the door of the house, and then its sudden bursting open; which was
immediately succeeded by a scuffle in the room without, and the clash of weapons.
Emma and Dolly shriek for help. Gashford, bearing in one hand a drawn sword, and in the other a lantern, rushes into the
room.
Emma: Sir, who are you? Have you come to free us?
Dolly: To return us to our families?
Gashford: For what other purpose am I here, (closing the door, and standing with his back against it) but to preserve you?
Miggs: (intruding with her own embrace of them) Ally looyer, thank the most Protestant Lord above!
Gashford steps forward to put the light upon the table, and immediately returning to his former position against the door,
bares his head, and looks on smilingly.
Emma: (turning hastily towards him) You have news of my uncle, sir?
Dolly: And of my father and mother?
Gashford: Yes Good news.
Dolly: They are alive?
Emma: And unhurt?
Gashford: Yes.
Emma: And close at hand?
Gashford: (smoothly) They are at no great distance. (addressing Dolly) Your friends, sweet one, are within a few hours’
journey. You will be restored to them, I hope, tonight.
Emma: (faltering) My uncle, sir —
Gashford: Your uncle, dear Miss Haredale, happily has succeeded where many of our creed have failed, and is safely out of
Britain.
Miggs: (now unsure of him) Of your creed, sir?
Emma: Does he desire that I should follow him?
Gashford: Does he desire it?!
Gashford: We have no safety but in flight; but we are watched on every hand, and detained here, both by force and fraud.
But, having powerful Protestant connections, I happily possessed the means of saving your uncle. And in redemption of my
sacred promise to him, I am here; pledged not to leave you until I have placed you in his arms; and that I have forced my way
here, sword in hand, you see.
Dolly: (pointing at him earnestly) Don’t go with him for the world!
Gashford: (frowning angrily upon her) Hush, pretty fool — be silent Miss Haredale, time presses, and danger surrounds
us. If you decide to remain, remember that I left you with a solemn caution...
Emma: Stay, sir! --- One moment, I beg you. Cannot we (she draws Dolly closer to her) go together?
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 37
Gashford: People of all ranks and creeds are flying from the town, which is sacked from end to end. The task of conveying
one female in safety through such scenes, is enough. I have said she will be restored to her friends tonight. If you accept the
service I tender, Miss Haredale, she shall be instantly placed in safe conduct. Do you decide to remain? Do you stay, or go?
Emma: (in a hurried manner) Dolly, my dear girl, this is our last hope. If we part now, it is only that we may meet again in
happiness and honor. I will trust to this gentleman.
Dolly: (clinging to her) No, no – no! Pray, pray, do not!
Emma: You hear that tonight — within a few hours — you will be among those who would die of grief to lose you. Pray for
me, dear girl, as I will for you. Say one ‘God bless you!’ Say that at parting!
Dolly says nothing when Emma kisses her cheek, but hangs upon her neck, and sobs, and holds her tight.
Gashford: We have time for no more of this! (unclenching Dolly’s hands, and pushing her roughly off, as he draws Emma
Haredale towards the door) Now! Quick, outside there! Are you ready?
A Loud Voice (Edward’s): Ay! Quite ready!
The door is flung open and Edward knocks Gashford senseless to the floor. Haredale enters, to hug Emma, even as the
Vardens rush in to do the same to Dolly. Then Gabriel turns to Edward and Joe.
Gabriel: See here! See here! where would any of us have been without these two? Oh, Mr. Edward, Mr. Edward — oh, Joe,
Joe, how light, and yet how full, you have made my old heart tonight!
Joe: It was Mr. Edward that knocked him down, sir I longed to do it, but I gave it up to him. (to Gashford) Come, you
brave and honest gentleman! Get your senses together, for you haven’t long to lie here.
Gashford: (crouching malignantly) Let me be well-used, masters I have access to all my lord Gordon’s papers, Mr.
Haredale; a great many in secret drawers, known only to me. I can give some very valuable information, and render
important assistance to any inquiry. You will have to answer it, if I receive ill usage.
Joe: (in deep disgust) Pah! Get up, man; you’re waited for, outside. Get up, do you hear?’
Gashford slowly rises; and picking up his hat, and looking with a baffled malevolence, all round the room, crawls out.
Edward: And now, gentlemen, the sooner we get back to the Black Lion tavern, the better, perhaps.
Mr. Haredale nods assent, and escorts his niece out straightway, with Edward; followed by the locksmith, Mrs Varden, and
Dolly. Joe follows. Miggs, forgotten, brings up the rear.
Narration: The outer room through which they had to pass, contained signs of the flown Bulldogs; and lying in hiding,
Simon Tappertit, burnt and bruised, and with a gun–shot wound in his body; and his legs — his perfect legs, the pride and
glory of his life, the comfort of his existence — crushed into shapeless ugliness. Wondering no longer at the moans they had
heard, Dolly shuddered at the sight; but neither bruises, burns, nor wound, nor all the torture of his shattered limbs, sent half
so keen a pang to Simon’s breast, as Dolly passing out, with Joe for her preserver. (Miggs offers Sim no aid, even when he
tentatively reaches towards her, but exits with a look of repugnance and horror.)
Act Eight, Scene Three – Newgate Prison. Next day.
Grip hops around Barnaby and his father, in the prison courtyard.
Narration: Heaven alone can tell, with what vague hopes of duty, and affection; with what strange promptings of nature,
Barnaby watched and shadowed his father in the prison. But that a vague and shadowy crowd of such ideas came slowly on
him; that they taught him to be sorry when he looked upon his haggard face, that they overflowed his eyes when he tried to
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 38
kiss him, that they kept him wondering when SHE would come to join them and be happy, is the truth. He sat beside him
whenever they were allowed to meet in the courtyard; listening for her footsteps in every breath of air.
Dennis brings in a shackled and bandaged (limping and half-conscious) Hugh, dumping him on the ground in the courtyard.
Barnaby runs to him, delighted, as Dennis exits.
Rudge: What man is that?
Barnaby: Hugh. Only Hugh. He and I and Grip hid in the woods, by the Chigwell road. All those years ago. We waited for
you to return to the Maypole, after you had robbed Mr. Edward Chester. But he will not harm you now. Why, you’re afraid
of Hugh! Ha ha ha! Afraid of gruff, old, noisy Hugh! (Hugh mutters to himself, as Barnaby attempts to hear.)
Rudge: (fiercely, making Barnaby shrink back) Why is he here? What has he done?
Barnaby: He was shot last night, when they burnt down the front gate. He was trying to set us all free! Aha! You like him
now, do you? You like him now!
Rudge: (peering at Hugh) He has blood stains on him still
Barnaby: Does the sight of blood turn you sick, father? I see it does, by your face. That’s like me —What are you looking
at?
Rudge: (softly) At nothing! (staring above his son’s head) At nothing!
Narration: As he tended to Hugh, Barnaby thought how happy they would be — his father, mother, he, and Hugh — if they
could ramble away together, and live in some lonely place, where there were none of these troubles; and that perhaps the
blind man, who had talked so wisely about gold, could teach them how to live without being pinched by want. But Grip
hopped among them, and croaked himself hoarse with dire predictions, like the famed raven in that unhappy Scottish play.
Act Nine, Scene One - The Black Lion.
Narration: A celebration table had been spread, at the Black Lion Inn, and a company of Vardens, Willets, Haredales, and
one Chester sat down to supper. Surrounded by faces with which he had been so well acquainted in old times, Mr. Willet
recurred to a subject with uncommon vigor; apparently resolved to understand it now or never. At last, the meal done, he
stared at his son with all his might — particularly at his maimed side; then said, as he looked all round:
Willet: It’s been took off!
Gabriel: By George! he’s got it!
Willet: Yes, sir (with the look of a man who felt that he had earned a compliment, and deserved it) --- That’s where it is. It’s
been took off.
Mrs. Varden: Tell him where it was done, Joe.
Joe: At the defense of the Savannah, father.
Willet: (softly, looking again round the table) At the defense of the Salwanners.
Joe: In America, where the war is
Willet: It was took off in the defense of the Salwanners in America where the war is. (Mr. Willet rises, walks round to Joe,
feels his empty sleeve; shakes his remaining hand; and wipes his eyes) My son’s arm — was took off — at the defense of the
— Salwanners — in America — where the war is...
Narration: Yes, Joe had lost an arm — that well–made, handsome, gallant fellow! As Dolly glanced towards him, and
thought of the pain he must have suffered, the tears came rising to her bright eyes, and wept bitterly. (Emma and Mrs.
Varden console her.)
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 39
Gabriel: (surprised at her sudden emotion) We are all safe now, Dolly. We shall not be separated any more. Cheer up, my
love, cheer up!
Mrs. Varden: Yes, yes, our dear, dear, dearly beloved daughter, (looking at Joe) all is well now, and shall be better soon, I
vow. Miss Haredale and I know, perhaps, better than your father, what injuries you’ve sustained. And the necessary
medicine for your recovery. My god-daughter may be in need of the very same type of medicinals, in fact. (Emma looks
towards Edward and blushes.)
Willet: Mayhap, she needs some ale. That’s what it is, depend upon it — I do, myself. Into the common room, the whole
company, and I’ll buy what’s needed.
Willet leaves the room, followed by the laughing others. Dolly lingers behind, wiping tears, and Mrs. Varden directs Joe to
speak to her. Then they’re left alone.
Joe: (kindly) I am sorry you take on so much, for what is past and gone. Think of it no longer. You are safe and happy now.
(Dolly continues crying.) You must have suffered very much within these few days — and yet you’re not changed, unless
it’s for the better. You are more beautiful than ever. And you must know it. You are told so very often, I am sure.
Dolly: (sobbing) I shall bless your name as long as I live. I shall never hear it spoken without feeling as if my heart would
burst. I shall remember it in my prayers, every night and morning till I die!
Joe: Will you? Will you indeed? It makes me — well, it makes me very glad and proud to hear you say so. (Dolly sobs, and
holds her handkerchief to her eyes. Joe stands, looking at her.) Your voice brings up old times so pleasantly, that, for the
moment, I feel as if--- (She says nothing. She raises her eyes for an instant. It is but a glance; a little, tearful, timid glance.)
Well! it was to be otherwise, and was… --- I have been abroad, fighting. I have come back as poor in purse as I went, and
crippled for life besides. Dolly, I did hope once that I might come back a rich man, and marry you. But I was a boy then, and
have long known better than that. …I am glad to know that you are admired and courted, and can pick and choose for a
happy life. God bless you!
He leaves her.
Act Nine, Scene Two - Tuesday night. Newgate Prison.
Narration: After four fearful days and terrifying nights, the disturbances were entirely quelled, and peace and order were
restored to the affrighted city. As day deepened into evening, and darkness crept into the nooks and corners of the town,
Barnaby sat in his dungeon, wondering at the silence. Beside him, with his hand in hers, sat one in whose companionship he
felt at peace.
Barnaby: Mother, how long — how many days and nights — shall I be kept here?
Mrs. Rudge: Not many, dear. I hope not many.
Barnaby: Ay, but your hoping will not undo these chains. I hope, but they don’t mind that. Grip hopes, but who cares for
Grip? (The raven gives a short, dull, melancholy croak.) Except you and me… (smoothing the bird’s rumpled feathers with
his hand) He sits and mopes all day in his dark corner… (The raven croaks again.) And by the way, (withdrawing his hand
from the bird, and laying it upon his mother’s arm) if they kill me, what will become of Grip? Will they take HIS life as
well? I wish they would. If you and I and he could die together, there would be none to feel sorry, or to grieve for us,
mother!
Mrs. Rudge: (tears choking her utterance) They will not harm you! They never will harm you, when they know all.
Barnaby: Oh! Don’t be too sure of that Don’t you cry for me. They said that I was bold, and so I am, and so I will be. You
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 40
may think that I am silly, but I can die as well as another. — I have done no harm, have I?
Mrs. Rudge: None before Heaven.
Barnaby: Why then, let them do their worst. You told me once when I asked you what death meant, that it was nothing to be
feared, if we did no harm — (laughing merrily) Aha! mother, you thought I had forgotten that!
Mrs. Rudge: (drawing him closer to her) Let us talk in whispers, my love, and be very quiet; it’s getting dark and our time
is short. I will soon have to leave you for the night.
Barnaby: You will come tomorrow?
Mrs. Rudge: Yes. And every day. And we will never part again.
Barnaby: Mother, when I spoke to you earlier about my father you cried, “Hush!” Why?
Mrs. Rudge: Do not speak about him.
Barnaby: Why not?
Mrs. Rudge: Because I am sorry that he is alive; sorry that he has come back. Because, dear Barnaby, the endeavor of my
life has been to keep you two asunder.
Barnaby: Why?
Mrs. Rudge: (whispering) He has --- he has shed blood. The time has come when you must know it. He has shed the blood
of one who loved him well, and trusted him. (Barnaby recoils in horror.) But, although we shun him, he is your father,
dearest, and I am his wretched wife. They seek his life, and he will lose it. It must not be by our means; nay, if we could win
him back to penitence, we should be bound to love him yet. Do not seem to know him, and if they question you about him,
do not answer them. (Dennis appears at the door, to escort her out of the prison.) God be with you through the night, dear
boy! God be with you! (Barnaby stands a moment, after she has kissed him, then falls sobbing in his cell.)
Narration: As his mother crossed a yard on her way out, she saw, through a grated door which separated it from another
court, her husband, walking round and round.
Mrs. Rudge: Mr. Dennis, might speak a word with this prisoner? I know him.
Dennis: Yes --- but you must be quick for I’m locking up for the night. I’ll be but down the hall here, if he troubles you. Do
not go too near the bars, Mrs. Rudge, for your own safety. (He exits.)
Rudge: Am I to live or die? Do you murder too, or spare?
Mrs. Rudge: My son — our son is in this prison.
Rudge: (stamping impatiently) What is that to me? --- I know it. He can no more aid me than I can aid him. If you are come
to talk of him, begone! Am I to live or die? Do you repent?
Mrs. Rudge: Oh! — do YOU? Will you, while time remains? Husband, dear husband, if you will but confess this dreadful
crime, I promise you, in the great name of the Creator that He will comfort and console you. And (clasping her hands, and
looking upward) from that hour I will watch you night and day in the short interval that will remain to us, and soothe you
with my truest love and duty, and pray with you that our boy may be spared to bless God, in his poor way, in the free air and
light!
He gazes at her as she pours out these words, as though he is for a moment awed by her manner, and knows not what to do.
But anger and fear soon get the mastery of him. Especially when Dennis appears at this moment, to escort her away.
Rudge: You plot, do you! You plot to get speech with me, and let them know I am the man they say I am. A curse on you
and on your boy.
Mrs. Rudge: On him the curse has already fallen.
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 41
Rudge: Let it fall heavier. I hate you both. The worst has come to me. The only comfort that I seek or I can have, will be the
knowledge that it comes to you. Begone! I curse the hour that I was born, the man I slew, and all the living world!
He rushes from her into the darkness of his cell, and he casts himself jangling down upon the floor, and smites it with his
ironed hands. Dennis leads her out.
Act Nine, Scene Three - One month later. The bedchamber of Sir John Chester.
Sir John is breakfasting in bed. His chocolate and toast stand upon a little table at his elbow; books and newspapers lay
ready to his hand, upon the coverlet; and he reads the news luxuriously.
Chester: And my friend the centaur, goes the way of his mamma! I am not surprised. And the exceedingly free–and–easy
young madman of Chigwell! I am quite rejoiced. (dallying lazily with the teaspoon) These insane creatures make such very
odd and embarrassing remarks, that they really ought to be hanged for the comfort of society. (there is a knock at the door)
— Peak, I am not at home, to anybody but the hairdresser. (But Peak is pushed into the room, protesting, as Gabriel
Varden attempts to get past him.)
Chester: My good fellow, how come you to intrude yourself in this extraordinary manner upon the privacy of a gentleman?
Gabriel: My business, Sir John, is not of a common kind, I do assure you...
Chester: (his prepossessing smile restored) Well! we shall see; we shall see... I am sure we have met before, but really I
forget your name?
Gabriel: My name is Gabriel Varden, sir.
Chester: (tapping his forehead) Mr. Varden the locksmith. And what can I do for you?
Gabriel: Sir John, I have come on business. — Private (with a glance at Peak) and very pressing business.
Chester: See if the hairdresser’s come, Peak. (Peak exits.) Mr. Varden, I beg you’ll take a chair.
Gabriel: (who bows in acknowledgment of the invitation to sit, but remains standing) Sir John, (cropping his voice and
coming nearer the bed) I am just now come from Newgate—
Chester: (hastily sitting up) Good Gad! From Newgate! Where there are jail–fevers, and ragged people, and bare–footed
men and women, and a thousand horrors! Mr. Varden, how could you?
Gabriel: The case is urgent. I am sent here.
Chester: (laughing and setting down his cup) And my good, credulous, open–hearted friend — by whom?
Gabriel: By a man called Dennis, now the head jailer at the prison --- for many years previously the hangman.
Chester: And what does the gentleman require of me? (Chester fans himself gently with his paper, while Gabriel looks
steadily at the knight.)
Gabriel: (quite unabashed and wholly regardless) At the jail, he found that one of his condemned prisoners was a young
man, Hugh by name, a leader in the riots. From some words which fell from this unhappy creature, Dennis discovered that
Hugh’s mother had suffered the death to which he is now condemned. (Chester lays down his paper fan, replaces his cup on
the table, and smiles with a steady look at Varden.) One conversation led to more; and the hangman found, from a
comparison of place and dates, that he had executed this woman, himself. (This scene may be enacted, as Gabriel relates the
tale.) She had been tempted by want into the easy crime of passing forged notes. She was young and handsome; and the
traders who employ men, women, and children in this traffic, looked upon her as one who would probably go on without
suspicion for a long time. But she was stopped in the commission of her very first offence, and died for it. She was of gipsy
blood, Sir John (Chester turns deadly pale but still meets the locksmith’s eye), and had a high, free spirit. Efforts were made
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 42
to save her. They might have been successful, if she would have given them any clue to her history. But she never would, or
did. (Chester reaches for his cup, but the next words stop him.) — Until she had but a minute to live. Then she broke silence,
and said, in a low firm voice which no one heard but this executioner, “If I had a dagger within these fingers and he was
within my reach, I would strike him dead before me, even now!” Dennis asked “Who?” She said, “The father of my boy.”
(Sir John draws back his outstretched hand, and seeing that the locksmith has paused, signs to him with easy politeness and
without any new appearance of emotion to proceed.) Was the child alive? he asked. “Yes.” Dennis asked her where it was,
its name, and whether she had any wish respecting it. She had but one, she said. It was that the boy might live and grow, in
utter ignorance of his father; and that when he became a man, she trusted God to bring the father and the son together, and
revenge her through her child.
Chester: What has this tale to do with me?
Gabriel: Sir John, at twelve tomorrow, this young man Hugh will die. I know that you anticipate the disclosure with which
I am about to end, and that you believe this doomed man to be your son.
Chester: (Chester finishes his chocolate and carefully wipes his lips with a handkerchief.) My dear Mr. Varden --- to what
does all this tend?
Gabriel: I suppose it tends to some pleading of natural affection in your breast. I suppose to the straining of every nerve, and
the exertion of all the influence you have in behalf of your miserable son. At the worst, I suppose to your seeing him...
Chester: (in a tone of mild reproof) Mr. Varden, have you really lived to your present age, and remained so very simple and
credulous, as to approach a gentleman of established character with such credentials as these, hangmen and ruffians,
catching at any straw? Oh dear! Oh fie, fie!
Gabriel: Think better of it, sir, when I am gone. Although you have turned your lawful son, Mr. Edward, from your door,
you have years to make your peace with him, Sir John: but that twelve o’clock will soon be here, and soon be past forever.
Chester: (kissing his delicate hand to the locksmith; Peak enters) Peak, show Mr. Varden to the door. (Varden exits.
Chester rises from his bed with a heavy sigh and wraps himself in his morning-gown.) So she spoke my name to her
executioner! I would I had never seen that dark face of hers... This affair would make a noise abroad, if it rested on better
evidence; but, as it is, I can afford to slight it. — Still, I gave him very good advice. I told him he would certainly be hanged.
I could have done no more if I had known of our relationship. — The hairdresser may come in, Peak!
Narration: As the locksmith walked slowly away from Sir John Chester’s chambers, the clock struck twelve. It was a
solemn sound, and not merely for its reference to tomorrow; for he knew that in that chime the murderer’s knell was rung.
Mary Rudge’s husband, father to Barnaby. (Rudge’s hanging, witnessed by Haredale, occurs as it is described, on another
part of the stage.) Gabriel had seen him pass along the crowded street, in the cart for the condemned, amidst the throng,
riding to the gibbet. To the last, he had been an unyielding, obdurate man; he had hardened, rather than relented, to his wife
and child; and the last words which had passed his white lips were curses on them as his enemies. Mr. Haredale had
determined to be there, and see it done. Nothing but the evidence of his own senses could satisfy that gloomy thirst for
retribution. The locksmith knew this, and when the chimes had ceased to vibrate, hurried away to meet him.
Gabriel: For these two men, Hugh and Rudge, I can do no more. Heaven have mercy on them! But poor Barnaby — what
aid can I render him? I never knew, till now, how much I loved the lad.
Act Nine, Scene Four - The Black Lion
Narration: On this same day, and about this very hour, Mr. Willet the elder sat smoking his pipe in a chamber at the Black
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 43
Lion. When his son Joe entered, he laid down his pipe, and chuckled audibly.
Joe: (entering) Why, father! You’re in spirits today!
Willet: (chuckling again) It’s nothing at all partickler, Joseph. Tell me something about the Salwanners.
Joe: What shall I tell you, father? (laying his hand upon his sire’s shoulder, and looking down into his face) That I have
come back, poorer than a church mouse, maimed and crippled? You know that.
Willet: (muttering, his eyes on Joe’s empty sleeve) It was took off at the defense of the Salwanners, in America, where the
war is.
Joe: (smiling and leaning on the back of his father’s chair) The very subject I came to speak to you about. A man with one
arm, father, is not of much use in the busy world. He can’t pick and choose his means of earning a livelihood. (Dolly
appears at the doorway --- but stays hidden, to overhear the following.) Father. — Mr. Edward has come to England from
the West Indies. When he was lost sight of, he made a voyage to one of the islands — and in short, is prospering, and has
come over here on business of his own, and is going back again speedily. Our returning and meeting in the course of the late
troubles, has opened a path in life for me which I may tread without being a burden upon you. To be plain, father, he can
employ me; and I am going to carry my one arm away with him, and to make the most of it.
Dolly runs into the room, in tears, throws herself on Joe’s breast without a word of explanation, and clasps her arms round
his neck.
Joe: Dolly! My dear Dolly…
Dolly: Ay, call me that always, and never leave me again --- or I shall die, Joe. Dear Joe, I always loved you — in my own
heart I always did, although I was so vain and giddy. I hoped you would come back that night, the night you left. Through all
these long, long years, I have never once forgotten you, or left off hoping that this happy time might come. (Joe says
nothing, but holds and kisses her.) And now, at last, if you were sick, and shattered in your every limb; I would be your wife,
dear love, with greater pride and joy, than if you were the stateliest lord in England!
Joe: What have I done to meet with this reward?
Dolly: You have taught me (raising her pretty face to his) to know myself, and your worth; to be something better than I
was; to be more deserving of you.
Joe: Father, (presenting Dolly) you know who this is?
Mr. Willet looks at her, then at his son, then back again at Dolly, and then makes an ineffectual effort to extract a whiff from
his pipe, which has gone out long ago.
Joe: This is your future daughter-in-law, my always-loved Dolly… Say a word, father, if it’s only how d’ye do.
Willet: Certainly, Joseph. Oh yes! Why not?
Joe: To be sure... Why not?
Willet: (in a low voice as though he were discussing some grave question with himself) Ah! Why not? (suddenly bursting in
to a very loud, short laugh) Certainly, Joseph. Oh yes! Why not?
Dolly and Joe join in his laughter, as they all exit.
Act Nine, Scene Five – Newgate Prison.
Narration: Barnaby was to die. There was no hope. They had tried to save him. The locksmith had carried petitions and
memorials to the fountain–head, with his own hands. But the well was not one of mercy, and Barnaby was to die. From the
first his mother had never left him, save at night. On this last day, he was more elated and more proud than he had been yet;
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 44
and when she dropped the book she had been reading to him aloud, and fell upon his neck, he wondered at her anguish. Grip
uttered a feeble croak, and lapsed abruptly into silence. It was morning but moments ago; they had sat and talked together in
a dream; and now... The dreadful hour of separation was at hand. They walked out into the courtyard, clinging to each
other.
Barnaby: Take heart, Mother, and cry no more, and feel how steady my hand is… They call me silly, Mother, but they
shall see!
Hugh comes in the courtyard, attended by a guard. Hugh stretches himself as though he had been sleeping. The mother and
son remain on one side of the court, and Hugh upon the other. He strides up and down, glancing fiercely every now and then
at the bright summer sky, and then looking round at the walls.
Mrs. Rudge: (as the clock strikes) Fetch me the book I left within — upon your bed Kiss me first.
He looks in her face, and sees there, that the time is come. After a long embrace, he tears himself away, and runs to bring it
to her. She exchanges a look of sympathy with Hugh, tries to leave by her own will, but is pulled away by a guard. Her
shriek of grief recalls Barnaby — but she is gone. He runs to the yard–gate, and looks through. They are carrying her away.
Hugh: Ha ha ha! Courage, bold Barnaby, what care we? They do well to put us out of the world, for if we got loose a second
time, we wouldn’t let them off so easy, eh? A man can die but once. Ha ha ha!
Narration: One rioter was to die before the prison, who had been concerned in the attack upon it; and one directly
afterwards in Bloomsbury Square. At eleven o’clock, the prison–bell began to toll. The hollow murmuring of the awaiting
crowd was heard within the jail as plainly as without. The two were brought forth into the yard, together, as it resounded
through the air. They knew its import well.
Hugh: (undaunted by the sound) What cheer, Barnaby? Don’t be downcast, lad.
Barnaby: (stepping lightly towards Hugh) Bless you --- I’m not frightened, Hugh. I’m quite happy. I wouldn’t desire to live
now, if they’d let me. Look at me! Am I afraid to die? Will they see ME tremble?
Hugh gazes for a moment at his face, on which there is a strange, unearthly smile; and at his eye, which sparkles brightly. At
this moment the clock strikes the first stroke of twelve, and the bell begins to toll. The various officers move towards the
door.
Dennis: (to Hugh) All’s ready when the last chime is heard. Do you have anything to say?
Hugh: Not I. I’m ready. — (his eye falls upon Barnaby) Yes I have a word to say, too. Come hither, lad. (There is
something kind, and even tender, struggling in his fierce aspect, as he wrings his poor companion by the hand.) (looking
firmly round) I’ll say this --- that if I had ten lives to lose, I’d lay them all down to save this one. This one (wringing
Barnaby’s hand again) that will be lost through me.
Barnaby: (mildly) Not through you --- Don’t say that. You were not to blame. You have always been very good to me. —
Hugh, we shall know what makes the stars shine, now! And Grip shall stay behind, and safe, to cheer my mother’s heart.
(Dennis nods in reassurance. Grip utters a forlorn croak.)
Hugh: I took him from her in a reckless mood, and didn’t think what harm would come of it (laying his hand upon
Barnaby’s head, and speaking in a lower voice) I ask her pardon; and his. — Look here (roughly, in his former tone to
Dennis), --- you see this lad? You’ve often in the last few days spoken to me of faith, and strong belief. I had faith enough
to believe, and did believe as strongly as any of you gentlemen can believe anything, that this one life would be spared. See
what he is! — Look at him! (raising his right arm aloft, looking like a savage prophet) If this was not faith, and strong
belief! --- Where are they! What else should teach me — me, born as I was born, and reared as I have been reared — to hope
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 45
for any mercy in this hardened, cruel, unrelenting place! On the head of that man, who, in his conscience, owns me for his
son, I leave the wish that he may never sicken on his bed of down, but die a violent death as I do now, and have the night–
wind for his only mourner. To this I say, Amen, amen!
Dennis: There is nothing more?
Hugh: (motioning Barnaby not to come near him) There is nothing more.
Dennis: Move forward! (Hugh mounts the steps to the scaffold, with a careless air --- and is hung by the neck until dead.)
Narration: Barnaby would have mounted the steps at the same time — indeed he would have gone before Hugh, but in both
attempts he was restrained, as he was to undergo the sentence elsewhere.
Act Nine, Scene Six - The Golden Key.
Haredale, Emma, and Edward enter.
Narration: The sign of the Golden Key, fair emblem of the locksmith’s trade, had been pulled down by the rioters, and
roughly trampled underfoot. But, now, it was hoisted up again in all the glory of a new coat of paint, and showed more
bravely even than in days of yore. The shutters of the shop were closed, however, and the house had a look of sadness and an
air of mourning; which the neighbors, who in old days had often seen poor Barnaby go in and out, were at no loss to
understand. The locksmith’s hammer was unheard; all was deserted, dark, and silent. On the threshold of this door, Mr
Haredale and Edward Chester met.
Haredale: Varden brought the mother here last evening, he told me?
Emma: She is above–stairs now. Her grief is past all telling.
Haredale: Varden is out?
Edward: He was out the whole night — but that of course you know. He was with you the greater part of it?
Haredale: He was. Without him, I should have lacked my right hand. He is an older man than I; but nothing can conquer
him.
Emma: The cheeriest, stoutest–hearted fellow in the world.
Haredale: A better creature never lived. He reaps what he has sown — no more.
Edward: It is not all men who have the happiness to do that.
Haredale: Sir, you still love my niece, and she is still attached to you.
Edward: I have that assurance from her own lips --- and you know that I would not exchange it for any blessing life could
yield me.
Haredale; You are frank, honorable, and disinterested. You have forced the conviction that you are so, even on my once–
jaundiced mind, and I believe you. You own a name I had deep reason to remember. I was moved and goaded by
recollections of personal wrong and injury, I know, but, even now I cannot charge myself with having, then, or ever, lost
sight of a heartfelt desire for her true happiness; or with having acted with any other impulse than the one pure, single,
earnest wish to be to her, as far as in my inferior nature lay, the father she had lost.
Emma: Dear uncle, I have known no parent but you. I have loved you all my life. Never was father kinder to his child than
you have been to me.
Haredale: Edward, I have done you wrong, sir, and I ask your forgiveness.
Edward: You judge yourself too harshly. Let these things rest.
Emma: You bear a blessing from us both. Never mingle thoughts of me with anything but undying affection and gratitude
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 46
for the past, and bright hopes for the future.
Haredale: (with a melancholy smile) The future is a bright word for you. Mine is of another kind. When you quit England I
shall leave it too. Let our ill–fated house remain the ruin it is. When you return, after a few thriving years, you will command
a better, and a more fortunate one. We are friends? (Edward takes his extended hand, and grasps it heartily.) When I look
upon you now, and know you, I feel that I would choose you for her husband. Her father had a generous nature, and you
would have pleased him well. I give her to you in his name, and with his blessing.
There is suddenly a great noise at a distance --- a loud shouting, mingled with boisterous acclamations. It draws nearer
every moment, and bursts into a deafening confusion of sounds at the street corner.
Haredale: This must be stopped — quieted We should have foreseen this, and provided against it. I will go out to them at
once.
But he is stopped by a loud shriek from above–stairs: and the locksmith’s wife, bursting in, and fairly running into Mr.
Haredale’s arms, cries out:
Mrs. Varden: She knows it all, dear sir! — she knows it all! We broke it out to her by degrees, and she is quite prepared.
Suddenly Gabriel appears in the doorway, Barnaby clinging to him. Mrs. Rudge rushes in to the room, and son and mother
are quickly in one another’s arms.
Gabriel: (panting, to Haredale) Such is the blessed end, sir, of the best day’s work we ever did. That crowd! The rogues!
it’s been hard fighting to get away from ‘em. (taking out an official document) There it is, sir --- the free pardon to Barnaby
Rudge, made out and signed, and entrusted to a horse–soldier for instant conveyance to the place of execution. And that
courier reached the spot just as the cart appeared in sight; and so --- I have brought him home!
Act Nine, Scene Seven - A graveyard by a church. Hugh’s graveside.
Narration: The scene was a churchyard; the time, midnight; the persons, Edward Chester, Emma Haredale, a clergyman.
They stood about a grave which had been newly dug; a dim lantern shed its feeble ray upon the book of prayer. There was no
inscription on the lid of the coffin. The mold fell solemnly upon the last house of this nameless man; and the rattling dust
left a dismal echo in the ears of those who had accompanied it to its resting–place. The grave was filled in to the top, and
trodden down. They all left the spot together.
Emma: You never saw him, living?
Edward: Often, years ago; not knowing him for my brother.
Emma: Never since?
Edward: Never. Yesterday, he steadily refused to see me. It was urged upon him, many times, at my desire.
Emma: Still he refused? That seems hard — unnatural.
Edward: Do you think so?
Emma: You do not?
Edward: We hear the world wonder, every day, at monsters of ingratitude. Did it never occur to you that it often looks for
monsters of affection, as though they were things of course?
Narration: They had reached the gate by this time, and departed the solitary graves.
Act Nine, Scene Eight - The Golden Key.
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 47
Narration: One afternoon, the locksmith sat in the little back–parlor. His wife had decorated the room with flowers for the
greater honor of Dolly and Joseph Willet. The recollections, too, with which they made merry! The glee with which the
locksmith asked:
Gabriel: (gleefully) Joe, do you remember that stormy night at the Maypole, when you first asked after Dolly? (as Joe and
Dolly blush) Or that night when she was going out to the party in the sedan–chair — the way Mrs. Varden had Miggs shove
those flowers you brought outside the window? That was rather heartless of you, Martha, my dear...
Mrs. Varden: Oh, Varden… I’d been aware of how they felt about each other long before Joe and Dolly were. I’d said to
myself, “That young Willet is certainly looking after our Dolly, and I must look after HIM.”
As the other three laugh, there’s a startling knock at the door.
Joe: (stopping Gabriel from rising) Now, now, don’t trouble yourself, Mr V. I’ll see who it is…
Joe exits, and is quickly heard laughing offstage.
Gabriel: Well, what is it? eh Joe? What are you laughing at?
Joe: Nothing, sir. It’s coming in.
Gabriel: Who’s coming in? what’s coming in?
At length after much struggling and humping, carrying a large trunk, Miggs appears; and the locksmith slaps his thigh,
elevates his eyebrows, and cries in a loud voice expressive of the utmost consternation:
Gabriel: Damme, if it an’t Miggs come back!
She enters the room, clasps her hands, raises her eyes devotedly to the ceiling, and sheds a flood of tears.
Gabriel: (looking at her in inexpressible desperation) The old story! She was born to be a damper, this young woman!
nothing can prevent it!
Miggs: Ho master, ho mim! Can I constrain my feelings in these here once agin united moments! Ho Mr. Varden, here’s
blessedness among relations, sir! Here’s forgivenesses of injuries, here’s amicablenesses!
(Gabriel looks from his wife to Dolly, and from Dolly to Joe, and from Joe to Miggs, with his eyebrows still elevated and his
mouth still open. When his eyes got back to Miggs, they rest on her; fascinated.)
Miggs: (with hysterical joy) To think that Mr. Joe, and dear Miss Dolly, has raly come together after all as has been said and
done contrairy! What sweet sensations is awoke within me! And did my missis think as her own Miggs would ever leave
her? Did she think as Miggs, though she was but a servant, would forgit that she was the humble instruments as always made
it comfortable between them two when they fell out! Did she think as Miggs had no attachments! Did she think that wages
was her only object!
Gabriel: (to his wife) My dear, do you desire this?
Mrs. Varden: I desire it! --- I am astonished — I am amazed — at her audacity. Let her leave the house this moment.
Miggs, hearing this, lets her end of the box fall heavily to the floor, gives a very loud sniff, crosses her arms, screws down the
corners of her mouth, and cries, in an ascending scale --Miggs: Ho, good gracious! Ho, good gracious! Ho, good gracious!
Gabriel: You hear what your mistress says, my love You had better go, I think.
Mrs. Varden: Stay; take this with you, for the sake of old service.
Miss Miggs clutches the bank–note Mrs. Varden takes from her pocket–book and holds out to her; and, tossing her head, she
looks at Mrs Varden.
Miggs: Ho, good gracious!
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 48
Gabriel: I think you said that once before, my dear
Miggs: (bridling) Times is changed, is they, mim! --- You can spare me now, can you? You can keep ‘em down without me?
I’m glad to find you’ve grown so independent. (curtseys to Mrs. Varden) I’m feeling sorry though, at the same time, mim —
he he he! It must be great vexations, ‘specially considering how ill you always spoke of Mr. Joe — to have him for a son–in–
law at last; and I wonder Miss Dolly can put up with him, either, after being off and on for so many years with a coachmaker.
(she pauses for a reply which doesn’t come) It an’t so much of a catch, after looking out so sharp ever since she was a little
chit, and costing such a deal in dress and show, to get a poor, common soldier, with one arm, is it, mim? He he! I wouldn’t
have a husband with one arm, anyways. I would have two arms, if it was me --- though instead of hands they’d only got
hooks at the end! (Miss Miggs bursts into a storm of sobs and tears. And exits.)
Gabriel: (good-humoredly wiping his wife’s eyes) It’s a thing to laugh at, Martha, not to care for Come! Dolly shall sing
us a song; and we’ll be all the merrier for this interruption! (Dolly sings a tune, which possibly serves as the underscoring
for the beginning of the following scene.)
Act Nine, Scene Nine - A month later --- the end of August.
Narration: A month later, at the end of August, Mr. Haredale stood alone on the road leading to the Warren. The effort he
had made to part from Emma with seeming cheerfulness and hope — and they had parted only yesterday — left him the
more depressed. With these feelings, he bent his steps towards the deserted mansion which had been his home so long, and
looked for the last time upon its blackened walls. He had nearly made the circuit of the building, when before him, on his
own ground, stood the man whose presence, of all mankind, in any place, and least of all in that, he could the least endure.
Chester: (now standing in casual elegance, looking at the ruins with an small smile) What an odd chance it is, that we
should meet here!
Haredale: It IS a strange chance.
Chester: The most remarkable and singular thing in the world. I never ride in the evening; I have not done so for years. The
whim seized me, quite unaccountably, in the middle of last night. — How very picturesque this is! (He points to the
dismantled house, and raises his glass to his eye.)
Haredale: You praise your own work very freely. (Sir John lets fall his glass; inclines his face towards Haredale with an
air of the most courteous inquiry; and slightly shakes his head.)
Chester: (looking smilingly round) Work! Mine! — I really beg your pardon —
Haredale: Why, you see on every side where fire and smoke have raged. You see the destruction that has been wanton here.
Do you not?
Chester: (gently checking his impatience with his hand) My good friend, of course I do. I am very sorry for you. But you
don’t bear it as well as I had expected. What has your misfortune to do with me?
Haredale: You urged and stimulated to do your work a fit agent, but one who is a traitor, and who has been false to you as
he has been to all others. With hints, and looks, and crafty words, you set on Gashford to this work. You urged him on to the
abduction and dishonor of my niece. You did. I see denial in your looks (abruptly pointing in his face, and stepping back)
and denial is a lie! (He has his hand upon his sword.)
Chester: (coldly as before) You will take notice, sir, that I have taken the trouble to deny nothing. Your discernment is
hardly fine enough for the perusal of faces; nor has it ever been, that I remember; or, in one face that I could name, you
would have read indifference, not to say disgust, somewhat sooner than you did. I speak of a long time ago — but you
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 49
understand me. I speak of your first love, now my deceased, and dimly-recalled wife.
Haredale: You say you don’t deny. Do you admit?
Chester: You yourself proclaimed the character of the gentleman. Assuming him to be what you described, I have nothing
to say of Mr. Gashford.
Haredale: Sir John, in your every look, and word, and gesture, you tell me this was not your act. I tell you that it was, and
that you tampered with the man I speak of, and with your wretched son Hugh (whom God forgive!) to do this deed. To you
I traced the insinuation that I alone reaped any harvest from my brother’s death… In every action of my life, you have stood,
like an adverse fate, between me and peace. In all, you have ever been the same cold–blooded, hollow, false, unworthy
villain. For the second time, and for the last, I cast these charges in your teeth!
With that Haredale strikes him on the breast so that Chester staggers. Sir John, the instant he recovers, draws his sword,
and running on his adversary, makes a desperate lunge at his heart; but Haredale parries the thrust. Chester, as he speaks,
repeatedly makes small, goading attacks with his blade to match his words. But Haredale is struggling with his own anger,
and merely defending himself.
Chester: (showing his hatred in his face) For the last time... Be assured it is! Did you believe our last meeting was
forgotten? What kind of man is he who entered into a bond with me to prevent a marriage, and when I had redeemed my part
to the spirit and the letter, skulked from his? (with a smile) Edward! Poor fool! Trapped into marriage by such an uncle and
by such a niece... But he is no longer a son of mine: you are welcome to the prize your craft has made, sir. (without the least
emotion) Haredale, I have always despised you, as you know, but I have given you credit for a species of brute courage. I am
sorry to find you a coward.
Haredale doesn’t speak, but raises his blade. They cross swords, though it is now quite dusk, and attack each other fiercely.
They’re well matched, and each thoroughly skilled in the use of his weapon. After a few seconds they grow hotter and more
furious, and inflict and receive several slight wounds. After receiving one of these in his arm, Haredale plunges his sword
through his opponent’s body to the hilt. Their eyes meet as Haredale withdraws his blade. He puts his arm about the dying
man, who repulses him, feebly, and drops. Raising himself upon his hands, Chester gazes at him for an instant, with scorn
and hatred in his look; then tries to smile, and faintly moving his right hand, as if to hide his bloody linen in his vest, falls
back dead.
Epilogue
Narration: Mr. Haredale fled that night. Repairing straight to a religious establishment, known throughout Europe for the
rigor and severity of its discipline, 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 recognized and carried home, Peak, the
faithful valet, true to his master’s creed, eloped with all the cash and movables he could lay his hands on.
Lord George Gordon was solemnly tried at Westminster for High Treason. Gashford deserted him, of course. Years
later, a meager, wan old man, diseased and miserably poor, was found dead in his bed at an obscure inn, where he was quite
unknown. He had taken poison.
Mr. Simon Tappertit, being removed from a hospital to his place of trial, was discharged by proclamation, on two
wooden legs. By the locksmith’s advice and aid, in course of time he took a wife. With this lady he lived in great domestic
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 50
happiness. Occasionally Mr. Tappertit would 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.
Miss Miggs, baffled in all her schemes, turned very sharp and sour. It chanced that the justices of the peace for
Middlesex stood in need of a female turnkey. Miss Miggs was instantly promoted to the office; which she held until her
decease, more than thirty years afterwards, remaining single all that time.
Mr. Willet the elder, took up his abode in a small cottage at Chigwell. 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.
Joe Willet and Dolly Varden were made husband and wife, and reopened the Maypole. It was not very long before
there would be seen more small Joes and small Dollys than could be easily counted. And the grandparents, Gabriel and
Martha Varden, became the most joyful example of marriage to be seen in the British Empire.
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, Barnaby knew them instantly, and wept and leaped for
joy.
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. Never was there 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.
Oh, yes --- and concerning Grip, the raven… Though he’d been a bit molted in Newgate, Grip soon recovered his
looks, and became as glossy and sleek as ever. He constantly practiced 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
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 51
Scene Breakdown
Act One – 18 Scenes
Act One, Scene One (pg. 3) DAISY’S GHOST - March 19, 1780. Winter. Evening. The Maypole. Willet, Cobb and Parkes sit by the fire. Daisy
enters, tells them of the Ghost.
Act One, Scene Two (pg. 4) HAREDALE AND HUGH - The same evening. The Maypole, then the Warren. Willet and Hugh travel to tell Haredale
of the Ghost.
Act Two, Scene One (pg. 5) HUGH AND GASHFORD - The next morning. March 20, 1780. Lord Gordon’s London lodgings. Hugh signs up with
the Protestant Association. Gashford is introduced.
Act Two, Scene Two (pg. 6) HUGH AND SIM - London. The Boot Tavern. Hugh is recruited by Sim.
Act Two, Scene Three (pg. 7) HUGH AND CHESTER - Sir John Chester’s chambers. That same night. Hugh reports to Chester. There is talk of
revenge on Haredale.
Act Three, Scene One (pg. 8) THE VARDENS - The Golden Key. Gabriel dresses for militia duty. The family talks of Joe Willet and the Great
Protestant Association.
Act Three, Scene Two (pg. 10) A TRAP IS LAID AND SPRUNG- En route to the deserted Rudge house. Gabriel talks with Haredale about the
missing Mrs. Rudge and Barnaby. Haredale apprehends the Stranger.
Act Four, Scene One (pg. 11) STAGG AND THE RUDGES - A small English country town. The home of Mrs. Rudge and Barnaby. Stagg appears,
demanding money.
Act Four, Scene Two (pg. 14) THE STONING OF HAREDALE - Haredale meets Gashford and Chester in London. Round the Houses of
Parliament. And in Westminster Hall.
Act Five, Scene One (pg. 16) THE RUDGES ARRIVE IN LONDON - Barnaby and his mother en route to London. Barnaby is pulled into the riot.
Act Five, Scene Two (pg. 18) THE RIOT AT WESTMINSTER - That same day. The mob gathers in front of Westminster and Barnaby is arrested.
Act Five, Scene Three (pg. 20) CHESTER AND GASHFORD VISIT THE BOOT - The Boot Tavern. Following the riot. Gashford and Chester
drive Hugh and Sim to more violence.
Act Five, Scene Four (pg. 21) RUDGE AND STAGG - Newgate prison. Rudge tells Stagg of the Haredale murder.
Act Five, Scene Five (pg. 22) SIM’S RETURN - The Golden Key. 1 a.m. The family awaits Sim’s return.
Act Six, Scene One (pg. 24) GASHFORD AND HUGH II - The Boot Tavern. Gashford incites Hugh’s revenge on Haredale.
Act Six, Scene Two (pg. 25) DESTRUCTION OF THE MAYPOLE – The Maypole. Cobbs, Parkes, and Daisy tell Willet they intend to investigate
the riots in London. They leave and Hugh, Sim, and the Bulldogs demolish the Maypole.
Act Six, Scene Three (pg. 26) FIRE IN THE DISTANCE – On the road to London. Parkes, Cobbs, and Daisy meet Haredale at a tollgate; they ride
back to the Maypole.
Act Six, Scene Four (pg. 27) THE RUINS – The Maypole. Willet is untied. Haredale leaves to investigate the fire, finding only the ruins of the
Warren.
INTERMISSION
Act Two – 19 Scenes
Act Seven, Scene One (pg. 28) BARNABY IN NEWGATE - Newgate Prison. A sergeant and Tom Green discuss Barnaby’s case, outside his cell.
Grip is returned to Barnaby.
Act Seven, Scene Two (pg. 29) EMMA AND DOLLY – The Boot Tavern. Sim and Hugh bring Emma and Dolly to the hideout.
Act Seven, Scene Two A (pg. 31) BARNABY MEETS HIS FATHER – The courtyard of Newgate Prison. Barnaby meets his father.
Act Seven, Scene Three (pg. 32) JOE AND HUGH – The Boot Tavern. Hugh and the Bulldogs decide to attack Newgate.
Act Seven, Scene Four (pg. 31) GABRIEL’S ABDUCTION – The Golden Key. The rioters kidnap Gabriel.
Act Seven, Scene Five (pg. 33) EDWARD AND JOE SAVE HAREDALE – Edward and Joe reveal themselves to Haredale.
Act Seven, Scene Six (pg. 34) THE STORMING OF NEWGATE – Newgate Prison gate. Gabriel is saved by Edward and Joe; Stagg is killed,
Sim’s legs broken, Hugh captured.
Act Eight, Scene One (pg. 37) EMMA, DOLLY, AND MIGGS – The Boot. Dolly, Emma, and Miggs are rescued.
Act Eight, Scene Two (pg. 39) HUGH BROUGHT TO NEWGATE - Newgate Prison. Hugh joins Barnaby and Rudge.
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 52
Act Nine, Scene One (pg. 40) A CELEBRATORY DINNER – The Black Lion. A celebration supper. Joe and Dolly talk.
Act Nine, Scene Two (pg. 41) MRS. RUDGE – Newgate Prison. Barnaby is visited by his mother, who then speaks to her husband.
Act Nine, Scene Three (pg. 42) VARDEN AND CHESTER/RUDGE’S HANGING– Chester’s lodgings. Varden reveals Hugh’s identity to
Chester. Rudge is hung.
Act Nine, Scene Four (pg. 44) DOLLY AND JOE – The Black Lion. Dolly and Joe agree to marry
Act Nine, Scene Five (pg. 45) HUGH’S HANGING – Newgate Prison. Hugh is taken to be hanged.
Act Nine, Scene Six (pg. 47) HAREDALE’S BLESSING/BARNABY SAVED– The Golden Key. Haredale blesses Edward and Emma. Barnaby is
saved.
Act Nine, Scene Seven (pg. 48) EMMA AND EDWARD AT HUGH’S GRAVE - Hugh’s grave.
Act Nine, Scene Eight (pg. 48) THE RETURN OF MIGGS - The Golden Key. Miggs interrupts a happy dinner.
Act Nine, Scene Nine (pg. 50) THE DUEL - The duel at the Warren grounds.
Epilogue (pg. 51)
Law Dunford (15 Scenes)
6 Scenes: Willet – 1.1, 1.2, 6.2, 6.4, 9.1, 9.4
1 Scene: Wagon Driver – 5.1
1 Scene: General Conway – 5.2
7 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 4.2, 5.1, 5.3, 7.4
Nicole Tompkins (20 Scenes)
5 Scenes: Emma – 1.2, 7.2, 8.3, 9.5, 9.7
4 Scenes: Cobb – 1.1, 6.2, 6.3, 6.4
7 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 6.2, 7.4
4 Scenes: Grip – 4.1, 5.1 (silent, in basket), 5.2 (in basket), 7.1
Cyndii Johnson (13 Scenes)
4 Scenes: Parkes – 1.1, 6.2, 6.3, 6.4
5 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3
4 Scenes: Stagg – 4.1, 5.4, 7.4, 7.6
Chelsey Cavender (11 Scenes)
4 Scenes: Daisy – 1.1, 6.2, 6.3, 6.4
7 Scenes: Gashford – 2.1, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 6.1, 8.3
1 Scene: Bulldog – 7.4
Zach Schute (12 Scenes)
4 Scenes: Stranger – 1.1 (Flashback), 3.2 (Understudy), 5.4, 8.2, 9.2
8 Scenes: Haredale – 1.2, 3.2, 4.2, 6.3, 6.4, 7.6, 9.6, 9.9
Ben Miller (18 Scenes)
15 Scenes: Hugh – 1.2, 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 6.1, 6.2, 7.2, 7.4, 7.6, 8.2, 9.5
4 Scenes: Edward – 4.2, 7.6, 8.3, 9.5, 9.7
Cameron Blankenship (10 Scenes)
10 Scenes: Sim – 2.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 5.5, 6.1 (asleep), 6.2, 7.2, 7.4, 7.6
Justin King (12 Scenes)
5 Scenes: Chester – 2.3, 4.2, 5.3, 9.3, 9.9
3 Scenes: Sergeant – 5.2, 7.1, 9.4
4 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 5.1, 6.2, 7.4
Michelle Weiser (13 Scenes)
2 Scenes: Peak – 2.3(?), 9.3
5 Scenes: Miggs – 3.1, 5.5, 7.4, 8.3, 9.8
6 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 6.2
Tyler Edwards (15 Scenes)
8 Scenes: Gabriel – 3.1, 3.2, 5.5, 7.4, 7.6, 9.3, 9.6, 9.8
7 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 6.2
Lauren Deaton (14 Scenes)
3 Scenes: Mrs. Varden – 3.1, 5.5, 9.8
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 53
3 Scenes: Dennis – 5.4, 7.6, 9.2, 9.5
7 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 6.2
Aziza Macklin (13 Scenes)
6 Scenes: Dolly – 3.1, 7.2, 8.3, 9.1, 9.4, 9.8
7 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 6.2
Tess Talbot (10 Scenes)
5 Scenes: Mrs. Rudge – 4.1, 5.1, 9.2, 9.5, 9.6
5 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 4.2, 5.3, 6.2, 7.4
Mathys Herbert (13 Scenes)
9 Scenes: Barnaby – 4.1, 5.1, 5.2, 5.4, 7.1, 7.2 A, 8.2, 9.2, 9.5, 9.6
4 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 4.2, 6.2, 7.4
Ian Blanco (14 Scenes)
8 Scenes: Joe – 4.2, 7.1, 7.4, 7.5, 7.6, 8.3, 9.1, 9.4, 9.8
7 Scenes: Bulldogs – 2.2, 5.2, 5.3, 6.2, 7.4
May 30, 2012 (4:20PM), pg. 54