A Soldier’s Kindness in Barnaby Rudge; The Ruin: then and now; and Pepys Adopts the Periwig

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The ruin, well wrought this wall, weirds break it, the stronghold burst, snapped riftries,

hours fallen, the work of the giants, the stainsmiths, moldereth, rhyme scoureth gait

towers, rhyme on mortar, shattered the shower-shields, roofs ruined, age under eight of them,

and the wielders and rites, earth grip holds them, gone, long, gone, fast in graves grasp

while fifty-fathers and sons of past, wall stood grey-like and red stone, kings fell

often, stood under storms, high arch crashed, stance yet the wall-stone hacked by weapons,

by files grim ground, shone the old skilled work, sank to loom crust, mood-quickened mind

and a man of wit, cunning in rings, bound gravely, the wall-base with iron, a wonder, bright

with the buildings, halls where springs ran, high horn-gabled, much throne-noise.

These many mead halls, men filled with loud cheerfulness, weird changed that, came days

of pestilence, on all sides men fell dead, death fetched off the flower of the people,

where they stood to fight, waste places, and on the acropolis ruins, hosts who had

build again shrank to the earth, therefore are these courts dreary, and that red arched

twisteth tiles, riot from roofridge, reacheth groundwards, broken blocks.

There once many a man, mood-glad, gold-bright, of gleams garnished, flushed with wine-pride,

flashing war gear, gazed on, wrought gemstones, on gold, on silver, on wealth-held and

hoarded, on light-filled amber, on this bright burr of broad dominion, stood stone houses,

wide streams, welled hot, from source, and a wall all caught in its bright bosom, that

the bars were hot at hall's hearth, that was fitting, thence hot streams leased, ran

over whore stone under the ring-tank, it is a kingly thing, city.

Weird in 2026, weird does it in 2026, when all is weird and all is wrong, where men

once kingly, stood with pride, now stand hot, flushed with stupor, 20,000 children killed,

for a future people they cannot be got, baby's headless through reasons same, acts of shame,

men shamed, bodies, hearts, minds, named, all, nothing to say of pride, nothing that's

brave or admired, for goodness real, instead all is fake, pretend and sham, the men posture

greatly lose all, that might be saintly in this 2026, like women of canterbury, we watch,

we watch the weird, as it passes through our lives, and see other lives lost, a girl

who is six, come and get me, come and get me, she says, but she's lost, all is lost,

and ruined in this weird, once men were great and said many great things, pride was

earned and shame was shameful, no right side, no side of good, shame on all sides, lost

all pervasive, men grotesque, shudders, all prayers of a time passing, men dying, while

we, wild witness to the weird, she ruin, in 2026, diary of Samuel peeps, November 1,

Lord's Day, 1663, London, this morning my brother's man brought me a new black-based

waistcoat faced with silk, which I put on from this day laying by half-shirts for this

winter. He brought me also my new gown of purple shag, trimmed with gold, very handsome.

He also brought me as a gift from my brother, a velvet hat, very fine to ride in, and

the fashion, which pleases me very well, to which end I believe he sent it me, for he

knew I had lately been angry with him. Up and to church with my wife, and noon dined

at home alone, a good calf's head boiled and dumplings, an excellent dinner me thought

it was. Second, up and by coached white hall, and there in the long-mattered gallery I find

Sir George Carter it, Sir John Menace and Sir William Baton, and by and by comes the

king to walk there, with three or four with him, and as soon as he saw us, oh, says he,

there is the navy office, and there walked twenty turns the length of the gallery, talking

me thought but ordinary talk. By and by came the Duke, and he walked, and at last went

into the Duke's lodgings. The king stayed so long that we could not discourse with the

Duke, and so we parted. I heard the Duke say that he was going to wear a periwig, and

they say the king also will. I never till this day observed that the king is mighty grey.

Third of November. Up into the office where busy all the morning, and at noon to the

coffee house, and there heard a long and most passionate discourse between two doctors

of physics, of which one was Dr Alan, whom I knew at Cambridge, and a couple of apocuthers,

their maintaining chemistry against their galanical physics, and the truth is, one of the apothecres,

whom they charged most, did speak very prickly, that is, his language and sense good. They

perhaps he might not be so knowing a physician as to offer to contest with them. I home, and

by and by comes Chapman, the periwig maker, and upon my liking it, without more ado, I

went up, and there he cut off my hair, which went a little to my heart at present part

with it, but it being over and my periwig on, I paid him three pounds for it, and a way

we went with my own hair. To make up another of, and I, by and by, after I had caused all

my maids to look upon it, and they conclude it to become me, thought Jane was mightily troubled

for my parting with my own hair, and so was Bess. I went abroad to the coffee-house,

and coming back, went to Sir William Penn's, and there sat with him, and capped in cock,

till late at night, cock or cook, talking of some of the Roman history very well, he having

a good memory, to supper and then a little to my vile, and afterwards with my wife to hear

her arithmetic, and suit a bed. Fourth of November, up unto my office, showing myself to Sir

William Baton, and Sir John Menis, and no great matter made of my periwig, as I was a feared

there would, among other things they came to me this morning, shales of portsmuth by my

order, and I began to discourse with him about the arrears of stores, belonging to the

victory-ling office there, and by his discourse I am in some hopes that if I can get a grant

from the king of such a part of all I discover, I may chance to find a way to get something

by the by, which does greatly, greatly please me the very thoughts of, home to dinner and

very pleasant with my wife, who is this day also herself, making of marmalot of quince,

which she does very well herself. I left her at it, and by coach I, to the new exchange

and several places to buy, and bring home things, among others a case I bought of the trunk

makers from my periwig, and so home and to my office late. Finally, the sick, this morning

waking my wife was mighty earnest with me, to persuade me that she should prove with

child, which, if it be, let it come and welcome. Up to my office with a commissioner pet came,

newly came out of the country and he and I walked together in the garden talking of business

a great while. Thence he being gone to my office and there dispatched many people. At noon

to the change to the coffee house, and among other things heard Sir John Cutler say that

of his own experience in time of thunder, so many barrels of beer as have a piece of iron

lay upon them, will not be stirred, and the others will. That's interesting.

And now Charles Dickens, Barnaby Rudge, chapter 58. Let's just read the last sentence from

the chapter before. But at the word, they were only thought, not spoken, he felt the handcuffs

galling his wrists, the cord pressing his arms to his sides, the loaded guns levelled at

his head, and those cold, bright, sharp, shining points turned towards him, the mere looking

down at which now that he was bound and helpless, made the warm current of his life, run cold.

They were not long in reaching the barracks for the officer who commanded the party was

desirous to avoid rousing the people by the display of military force in the streets,

and was humanly anxious to give as little opportunity as possible for any attempt at rescue,

knowing that it must lead to bloodshed and loss of life, and that if the civil authorities

by whom he was accompanied empowered him to order his men to fire, many innocent persons

would probably fall, whom curiosity or idleness had attracted to the spot. He therefore led

the party briskly on, avoiding with the merciful prudence the more public, and crowded thoroughfares

and pursuing those which he deemed least likely to be infested by disorderly persons.

This wise proceeding not only enabled them to gain their quarters without any interruption,

but completely baffled a body of rioters who had assembled in one of the main streets through

which it was considered certain that they would pass, and he remained gathered together

for the purpose of releasing the prisoner from their hands long after they had deposited

him in a place of security, closed the barrack gates and set a double guard at every entrance

for its better protection. Arrived at this place.

Paul Barnaby was marched into a stone-floored room where there was a very powerful smell of tobacco,

a strong, thorough draft of air, and a great wooden bedstead, large enough for a score of men.

Several soldiers in undress were lounging about or eating from tin cans, military accoutrements

dangled on rows of pegs along the white-washed wall, and some half-dozen men lay fast asleep upon

their backs snoring in concert. After remaining here just long enough to note these things, he

was marched out again and conveyed across the parade ground to another portion of the building.

Perhaps a man never sees so much at a glance as when he is in a situation of extremity.

The chances are a hundred to one that if Barnaby had lounged in at the gate to look about

him, he would have lounged out again with a very imperfect idea of the place and would have

remembered very little about it. But as he was handcuffed and taken across the graveled

area, nothing escaped his notice. The dry, arid look of the dusty square and of the bare

brick building, the clothes hanging at some of the windows, and the men in their shirt-sleeves

and braces, puppies just come running in. Come on, stop messing with a lolly, come and

leave her alone. The men in their shirt-sleeves and braces, lolling with half their bodies

out of the others. The green sun blinds at the office's quarters and the little scanty

trees in front. The drummer boy is practising in a distant courtyard. The men on drill on

the parade, the two soldiers carrying a basket between them, who winked to each other as

he went by, and slightly pointed to their throats. The spruce sergeant who hurried past

with a cane in his hand, and under his arm a clasp book with a vellum colour-cover.

The fellows in the ground floor rooms, furbushing and brushing up their different articles of dress,

who stopped look at him, and whose voices, as they spoke together, echoed loudly throughout

the empty galleries and passages. Everything down to the strand, the stand of muskets before

the guard-house, and the drum with a pipe-clade belt attached, in one corner, impressed itself

upon his observation, as though he had noticed them in the same place a hundred times, or had

been a whole day among them, in place of one brief hurried minute. He was taken into

a small paved backyard, and there they opened a great door, platted with, plated with iron,

and pierced some five feet above the ground, with a few holes to let the light air in.

Into this dungeon he was walked straight way, and having locked him up there and placed

a sentry over him, they left him to his meditations. The cell or black hole, for it had, if

those words painted on the door, was very dark, and having recently accommodated a drunken

deserter by no means clean. Barnaby felt his way to some straw at the farther end, and

looking towards the door, tried to accustom himself to the gloom, which coming from the bright

sunshine out of doors was not an easy task. There was a kind of portico or colonnade outside,

and this obstructed even the little light that at best could have found its way through to the

small apertures in the door. The footsteps of the sentinel echoed monotonously as he paced

its stone pavement, to and fro, reminding Barnaby of the watch he had so lately kept himself,

and as he passed and repast the door, he made the cell for an instant so black by the interposition

of his body that he's going away again, seemed like the appearance of a new ray of light,

and was quite a circumstance to look for. When the prisoner had sat some time upon the ground,

gazing at the chinks and listening to the advancing and receding footstep of his guard,

the man stood still upon his paced. Barnaby quite unable to think or to speculate on what might

be done with him. Had been lulled into a kind of daze by his regular pace, but his stopping

roused him, and then he became aware that two men were in conversation under the colonnade,

and very near the door of his cell. How long they had been talking there, he couldn't tell,

for he had fallen into an unconsciousness of his real position, and when the footstep ceased,

was answering aloud some question, which seemed to have been put him by hue in the stable.

Though of the fancy purport either of question or apply not with standing,

that he awoke with the latter on his lips, he had no recollection whatsoever, the first words

that reached his ears were these. Why is he brought here, then, if he has to be taken away again

so soon? Why, where would you have him go? Damn me, he's not as safe anywhere as among the

King's troops, is he? What would you do with him? Would you hand him over to a pack of cowardly

civilians that shake in their shoes till they wear their souls out, with trembling at the threats

of the ragamuffins he belongs to? That's true enough, true enough, I'll tell you what I wish

Tom Green, that I was a commissioned instead of a non-commissioned officer, and that I 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 bull cartridge. I said the other voice,

that's all very well, but they won't give the needful authority, if the magistrate won't give

the word what's the officer to do? Not very well knowing, as it seemed, how to overcome this difficulty,

the other man contented himself with damning the magistrates, with all my heart, said his friends.

Come on then puppy, hop up, she can't quite get up on the safer, come on,

there we go, that's a good puppy.

Where's the use of a magistrate, return the other voice, what's a magistrate in this case,

but an impertinent, unnecessary, unconstitutional sort of interference,

here's a proclamation, here's a man referred to in that proclamation, here's proof against him,

and a witness on the spot, damn me, take him out and shoot him sir, who wants a magistrate?

When does he go before, Sir John Fielding asked the man who had spoken first,

tonight at eight o'clock, return the other, mark what follows, the magistrate commits him to new

gate, our people take him to new gate, the rioters pelt our people, our people retire before the

rioters, stones are thrown, insults are offered, not shots fired, why? Because of the magistrates,

damn the magistrates, when he had in some degree relieved his mind by cursing the magistrates in

various other forms of speech, the man was silent, safe for a low growling, still having

reference to those authorities, which from time to time escaped him. Barnaby, who had

wish enough to know that this conversation concerned and very nearly concerned himself,

remained perfectly quiet until they ceased to speak, when he groped his way to the door,

and peeping through the air holes, tried to make out what kind of men they were to whom he'd been

listening. The one who condemned the civil power in such strong terms was a sergeant, engaged just

then as the streaming ribbons in his cap announced on the recruiting service. He stood leaning sideways

against a pillar, nearly opposite the door, and as he growled to himself, drew figures on the

pavement with his cane. The other man had his back towards the dungeon, and Barnaby could only

just see his form. To judge from that he was a gallant, manly, handsome fellow, but he had lost his

left arm. It had been taken off between the elbow and the shoulder, and his empty coat sleeve hung

across his breast. It was probably this circumstance which gave him an interest,

beyond any that his companion could boast of, and attracted Barnaby's attention.

There was something soldierly in his bearing, and he wore a jaunty cap and jacket. Perhaps

he'd been in the service at one time or another, if he had been it couldn't have been very long

for he was a very young fellow now. Well, well, he said thoughtfully, let the fork be where it may,

it makes a man sorrowful to come back to Old England and see her in this condition.

While I suppose the pigs will join him next, said the sergeant, with an implication on the rioters,

now that the birds have set him the example. The birds repeated Tom Green.

Ah, the birds said the sergeant testily, that's English ain't it? I don't know what you mean.

Go to the guard house and see. You'll find a bird there that's got a cry as pat as any of them

and balls. No popery, like a man, all like a devil as he says he is. I shouldn't wonder.

The devil's leasing London somewhere, damn me if I wouldn't twist his neck round on the chance

if I had my way. The man had taken two or three steps away as if to go and see this creature,

when he was arrested by the voice of Barnaby. It's mine, he called out half laughing and half weeping.

My pet, my pet, my friend grip. Ah, don't hurt him, he's done no harm. I taught him and it's my fault.

Let me have him if you please. He's the only friend I have left now. He'll not dance or talk

or whistle for you I know, but he will for me because he knows me and loves me, though you wouldn't

think it very well. He wouldn't hurt a bird I'm sure. You're a brave soldier, sir, and wouldn't

harm a woman or a child. No, nor a poor bird I'm certain. The latter adoration was addressed to

the sergeant, whom Barnaby judged from his red coat to be high in office and able to seal

grips destiny by a word. But that gentleman in reply,

surlyly damned him for a thief and rebel as he was and with many disinterested

implications on his own eyes, liver, blood and body assured him that if it rested with him to decide

he would put a final stopper on the bird and his master too. You taught boldly to a caged man

said Barnaby in anger. If I was on the other side of the door and there was none to part us,

you change your note. I and you may toss your head. You would. Kill the bird. Do. Kill anything

you can and so revenge yourself on those who with their bare hands untied could do as much to you.

Having vented his defiance, he flung himself into the furthest corner of his prison

and muttering, goodbye, grip, goodbye dear old grip. Shed tears for the first time since he had

been taken captive and hid his face in the straw. He had had some fancy at first that the one

armed man would help him or would give a kind of word and answer. He hardly knew why but he hoped

and thought so. The young fellow had stopped when he called out and checking himself in the very

act of turning round, stood listening to every word he said. Perhaps he built his feeble trust on

this, perhaps on his being young and having a frank and honest manner. However that might be,

he built, he built it on sand. The other went away directly, he had finished speaking and neither

answered him nor returned. No matter, they were all against him here. He might as well

hasn't known it. Goodbye old grip, goodbye. After some time they came and unlocked the door

and called to him to come out. He rose directly and complied for he would not have them think he

was subdued or frightened. He walked out like a man and looked from face to face. None of them

returned his gaze or seemed to notice it. They marched him back to the parade by the way he

they had brought him and they halted among a body of soldiers at least twice as numerous as

that which had taken him prisoner in the afternoon. The officer he had seen before bade him and a few

words to take notice that if he attempted to escape no matter how favourable a chance he might

suppose he had, certain of the men had orders to fire upon him that moment. Then they closed around

him as before and marched him off again. In the same unbroken order they arrived at Bay Street,

followed and beset on all sides by a crowd which was continually increasing. Here he was placed

before a blind gentleman and asked if he wished to say anything. Not he, what had he got to tell

them, after a very little talking which he was careless of and quite indifferent to, they told him

he was to go to Newgate and took him away. He went out into the street so surrounded and hemmed

in on every side by soldiers that he could see nothing but he knew that there was a great crowd

of people by their murmur and that they were not friendly to the soldiers was rendered evident

by their yells and hisses. How often and how eagerly he listened for the voice of Hugh.

No, there was not a voicing you among them all. Was Hugh a prisoner too? Was there no hope?

As they came nearer and nearer to the prison the hootings of the people grew more violent,

stones were thrown and every now and then a rush was made against the soldiers.

Puppy nibbling me which they staggered under. One of them, close before him,

smarting under a blow upon the temple, levelled his musket but the officer struck it upwards

with his sword and ordered him on the peril of his life to desist. This was the last thing he saw

with any distinctness for directly afterwards he was tossed about and beaten to and through as

though in a tempestuous sea but go where he would there were the same guards about him.

Twice or thrice he was thrown down and so were they but even then he couldn't he couldn't

hope to elude their vigilance for a moment. Then they were up again and had closed about him

before he with his wrists so tightly bound could scramble to his feet,

fenced in thus he felt himself hoisted to the top of a low flight of steps.

And then for a moment he caught a glimpse of the fighting in the crowd and of a few red

gates sprinkled together here and there struggling to rejoin their fellows.

Next moment everything was dark and gloomy and he was standing in the prison lobby

the centre of a group of men. A smith was speedily in attendance who riveted upon a set of heavy

ions, stumbling on as well as he could beneath the unusual burden of these fetters. He was

conducted to a strong stone cell where fastening the door with locks, bolts and chains they left

him well secured having first unseen by him thrust in grip. Who with his head drooping and his

deep black plumes rough and rumpled appeared to comprehend and to partake his masters, fallen

fortunes. And I'll read the next chapter later on today. Thank you so much for joining me.

Goodbye for now.