Solomon Daisy has a Tough Day in Chapter LVI of Barnaby Rudge, by Charles Dickens

.

Hello, and a very happy Sunday morning. It's Saturday evening for me, and I'm going to

publish this, probably at 12.01, so I passed the rule that I have to, that I don't publish

Barnaby Rudge's apart from on a Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday, but it means that I can go

to bed knowing one episode has been published, and then I'll do another one later on on Sunday.

And finally, after all these months of terrible weather, we've finally got weather's looking

much better. And I've got a question for you, although I don't want Adverts on my, on

this podcast, I've produced an advert that can go on other people's podcast, hypocrite

that I am. And I wondered if you would know of any, or recommend any podcasts that you

think, oh, that would be a good one for me to advertise on. If so, send me an email and

let me know. I do respond to all emails. Sometimes I respond to the wrong order, so you

might get an answer straight away or you might wait two weeks, but that's only because

things are quite intense at the moment with, and they have been for a while, but hopefully

life will settle down a little bit. And I'll be a bit more sort of consistent with how

I can reply, but I love hearing from you. And I've got one person whose words I want to

read out. Oh, little cute scouts making such cute noises. I'm so tempted to have her

in my bedroom with me, but you think that's a terrible idea. But she's such a little,

I mean, I've definitely fallen in love with her this week. First couple of weeks were

just sort of hard, got to say, it stopped saying sort of, we're hard work, but now it's

settled down and she's more predictable. And she knows, she knows where we're all light

now. And she's getting used to the dog. And yeah, it's all settling down nicely. Right,

back to the focus. So we have lovely lady. And I'll just call her C and she's from Pennsylvania

and she's one of the people who also support my tea fund to say thank you very much, dear

one. Hello, Gretel. I'm writing to congratulate you on the new puppy. I've seen some photos

on Blue Sky and she or he, question mark, looks quite adorable. Things are continuing to

be very tense here for a variety of reasons. And I've been grateful for the calm of your

podcast episodes. I've had to skip around a bit. I think I just listened to the March the

first episode. I had known that Charles Dickens traveled to the US, but I did not know that

he'd written about it. That selection of reading was fascinating to me. The person he

encountered, you said, somebody forever and blast everybody else, kind of captures our

political situation today in an up shell. I do love it when you creep around ancient

churches and relate to us about your experience. I appreciate your keen sense of observation

and the knowledge you bring, not so much of the knowledge. I mean, honestly, you must

always question everything I ever say about churches. We have finally had warmer weather

here, but it's been mostly rain. It was such a bitterly cold and snowy winter that I'm

just relieved its rain instead of more snow. We planted some bulbs, daffodils and hyacinths

last year and it looks like they're coming up. No blooms yet, but we have that to look

forward to you soon. That's a delightful email. When they come up, please send pictures.

If you want me to pop them on, my social media, it's so nice to see the flowers coming

up, isn't it? The only thing about husband coming back from trips is that he gets kind

of obsessed about funny things. In the garden, for example, he becomes obsessed about

the lawn-getting patches of moss on it. That's one obsession. The other obsession, which

I can't really understand at all, is he thinks bluebells are taking over our flowerbed.

And I think having bluebells taking over a flowerbed sounds lovely, but no, he's dug

them up today and he's going to plant them somewhere else and so we have all these detached

bluebells lying about. Hopefully he'll do that tomorrow, but yeah, just obsessions. We

all have our foibles. My foible, the biggest one is I can't stand the sink being messy.

That makes me really cross when it's cluttered full of things and food waste is in it and

it's just not nice. Another obsession is clothes have to be folded nicely and they have

to be ironed, even socks and pants. Everything has to be beautifully folded and put away.

What other obsessions? Tea, of course, pots of tea. I'm a little bit obsessed about bathrooms

being really super clean and sparkly and shower cubicles, not being full of gunky bottles

and mess. Before I lose any new followers, I'm talking about my shower cubicle. Let's

get straight to something interesting. Let's try and find some saints.

Okay, so let's turn to my shorter version. Today, 14th of March, St.

Matilda of Saxony, 895 to 968. That's a long life, 73 years. Queen of Germany,

known for charity and founding monasteries. St. Lubin of Schott, 6th century monk,

abbot, and later Bishop, who reformed clergy and supported the poor. And Saint Placido,

Ricardi, Benedictine Monk of St. Paul, outside the walls. I love the whole outside the walls thing

in a title. Other lesser-known commemorations. Blessed Giacomo, Cosmano, blessed Eve of Liege,

Saint Lazarus of Milan, Saint Alexander of Pidna. And tomorrow, the principal saints are

San Luis de Marriac, 1591 to 1660. Again, along age, 669 years, co-founder, co-founder,

Saint Delward, with Saint Vincent de Paul, of the daughters of charity, devoted to the

second poor, Saint Clement Mary Hoffbauer, redemptionist missionary, and reformer in central

Europe. And other saints commemorated tomorrow are St. Aristobulus, traditionally considered

the first bishop in Britain. Ah, yes. Now, we need to look into that, don't we? We've started

from St. Augustine, but let's look back. Let's look further back at these fascinating ones that

existed when Rome was Christianized. The blessed Atomid, Zatti, what a great name. St. Monaldos

of Ancona, St. Raymond of Fiterro, and Pope Zachary. I mean, we've got to look at St.

Pope Zachary as well, haven't we? What a name. Now, my husband's come in to tell me something.

What is it? Make it interesting. Cat. What should we do with the cat? So, I think he's completely

baffled by the whole, we've got three animals, and the cat can be with the old dog because the old

dog leaves her alone. My husband's talking about it today, and he said, they're like work

colleagues. They just nod politely at each other when they pass at the water fountain,

but cat cannot be in the same room with puppy. So, we have that kind of situation. You know,

the quiz where you know, you've got the farmer, the chicken, and the fox, and how do you get them

across the river? So, it's that kind of scenario, and once my husband said, if you got so well,

and it's beyond him, it's beyond me as well. Righty Ho, and now with beautifully painted nails,

when I was younger, and throughout my adult life, actually, I used to always bite my nails badly,

and in fact, my son does, and my daughter bites her, the fingers, the skin around her nails,

so I'm trying to get them to stop because I carried on so long. But I've now, Emola and I have had

for a while, got long, beautiful, beautifully kept nails, and they're not exactly my pride and

joy, because I don't show them to anybody, because that would be a bit strange, but yeah, I keep,

I look after them. Right, without any further ridiculousness or a deal or boringness, I should say,

we're going to turn to Mr. Anthony Trollop, who wants to talk about the morning visit,

about just a towers when things were starting to kick off, certainly in people's minds, if not,

in reality. All the introductions were taking place, including the unusual it was thought in

introduction of Dr. Grantley's wife, do you remember? So, I think there might be a tiny overlap.

Mr. Harding acknowledged the diminutive incumbency of St. Cuthbert's. Mr. Slope then left him alone,

having condescended sufficiently and joined the conversation among the higher powers.

There were four persons there, each of whom considered himself the most important

personage in the diocese, himself indeed or herself as Mrs. Browdy was one of them,

and with such a difference of opinion, it was not probable that they would get on pleasantly

together. The bishop himself actually wore the visible apron and trusted mainly to that,

to that and his title both being facts which could not be overlooked. The Archdeacon

knew his subject and really understood the business of bishops, which the others did not,

and this was his strong ground. Mrs. Browdy had her sex tobacco and her habit of command,

and was nothing daunted by the high tone of Dr. Grantley's face and figure. Mr. Slope had only

himself and his own courage and tact to depend on, but he nevertheless was perfectly self-assured

and did not doubt but that he should soon get the better of weak men who trusted so much to

externals as both bishop and Archdeacon appeared to do so. Do you reside in Rochester,

Dr. Grantley, asked the lady with her sweetest smile? Dr. Grantley explained that he lived in his

own parish of plumstead Episcopie, a few miles out of the city, whereupon the lady hoped

that the distance was not too great for country visiting as she would be so glad to make the acquaintance

of Mrs. Grantley. She would take the earliest opportunity after the arrival of her horses at

Rochester. Their horses were present at present in London. Their horses were not immediately coming

down as the bishop would be obliged in a few days to return to town. Dr. Grantley was no

doubt aware that the bishop was present much called upon by the University Improvement Committee,

and indeed the committee could not well proceed without him as their final report had now to be

drawn up. The bishop had also to prepare a scheme for the manufacturing towns morning and evening

Sunday school society of which he was patron or president or director and therefore the horses

would not come down to Rochester at present, but whenever the horses did come down she would take

the earliest opportunity of calling at plumstead Episcopie, providing the distance

was not too great for country visiting. The Archdeacon made his fifth bow, he had made one

each mention of the horses and promised that Mrs. Grantley would do herself the honour

of calling at the palace on an early day. Mrs. Proudley declared that she would be delighted.

She hadn't liked to ask not being quite sure whether Mrs. Grantley had horses

besides the distance might have been etc etc. Dr. Grantley had again bowed but said nothing.

He could have bought every individual possession of the whole family of proudies

and to have restored them as a gift without much feeling the loss and had kept a separate pair

of horses for the exclusive use of his wife since the day of his marriage whereas Mrs. Proudley

had been hitherto jobbed about the streets of London as so much a month during the season

and at other times had managed to walk or hire a smart fly from the livery stables.

Are the arrangements with a reference to the Sabbath day schools generally pretty good in your

Archdeaconry? asked Mr. Slope. O, Sabbath day schools repeated the Archdeacon with an affectionate

affection of surprise upon my word I can't tell. It depends mainly on the Parsons' wife and daughters

there is none at plumstead. This was almost a fib on the part of the Archdeacon for Mrs. Grantley

has a very nice school to be sure it is not a Sunday school exclusively and is not so

designated but that exemplary lady always attends there an hour before church and hears the children

say their catechisms and sees that they are clean and tidy for church with their hands washed

and their shoes tied and greasel and florinda her daughters carry thither a basket of large buns

baked on a sat day off to noon and distribute them to all the children not especially under

disgrace or which buns are carried home after church with considerable content and eaten hot tea

being then split and tasted they sound nice out of hot split tasted tea bun the children of

plumstead would indeed open their eyes if they heard their venerated pastor declare that their

wooden it was no Sunday school in his parrot. Mr. Slope merely opened his eyes wider

and slightly shrugged his shoulders he was not however prepared to give up his darling project

I fear there's a great deal of Sabbath travelling here said he on looking at the Bradshaw

I see that there are three trains in and three out every Sabbath could nothing be done to

induce the company to withdraw them don't you think dr. Grantley that a little energy might

diminish the evil not being a director I really can't say but if you can withdraw the

passengers the company I dare say will withdraw the trains said the doctor it's merely a question

of dividends but surely dr. Grantley said the lady surely we should look at it differently

you and I for instance in our position surely we should do all we can to control so grievous

a sin don't you think so mr. Hardy and she turned to the presenter who was sitting mute and unhappy

mr. Harding thought that all porters and stokers guards break smun and pointsman ought to have

an opportunity of going to church and he hoped that they all had but surely surely continue

to miss his proudly surely that is not enough surely that will not secure such an observance of

the Sabbath as we are taught to conceive is not only expedient but indispensable surely come what

might think dr. Grantley was not to be forced into a dissertation on a point of doctrine with

Mrs. Proudy nor yet with mr. Slope so without much ceremony he turned his back upon the sofa

and began to hope that dr. Proudy had found that the palace repairs had been such as to meet his

wishes and we'll find out what the answer is another day right we are coming up to eight minutes

to midnight so one chapter of Barnaby Rudge a publication and then sleep for me the last chapter

chapter 55 made me sad because poor John Willett was well let me let me read you the last couple of

sentences a dull smoke hung upon the ruin as they to hide it from the eyes of heaven and the wind

for bore to move it bear walls roof open to the sky chambers where the beloved dared had many

and many a fair day risen to new life and energy where so many dear ones had been sad and

merry which were connected with so many thoughts and hopes regrets and changes all gone nothing

left but a dull and dreary blank a smoldering heap of dust and ashes the silence and solitude

of utter desolation and that the that was about the Warren which was burnt down by the rioters

and I don't think I can think of it a single example of rioting that in history that I like

or rioters that I approve of I'm going to wish you a good night now thank you so much for joining

me thank you for your support and do get in touch if you've got any observations or comments at

all it's now chapter 56 of Barnaby Rudge the maple cronies little dreaming of the change

so soon to come upon their favorite haunt struck through the forest path upon their way to London

and avoided the main road which was hot and dusty kept to the by paths and the fields as they

drew nearer to their destination they began to make inquiries of the people whom they passed

concerning the riots and the truths or falsehood of the stories they had heard the answers went far

beyond any intelligence that had been spread to quiet chiquel one man told them that that afternoon

the guards conveying to negate some rioters who had been reexamined had been set upon by the mob

and compelled to retreat another that the houses of two witnesses near clear market were about

to be pulled down when he came away another that Sir George Savile's house in lester fields was

to be burned that night and that it would go hard with Sir George if he fell into the people's

hands as it was he who had brought in the catholic bill all accounts agreed that the mob were out

in stronger numbers and more humorous parties then had yet appeared that the streets were unsafe

that no man's house or life was worth an hour's purchase that the public consternation was

increasing every moment and that many families had already fled the city one fellow who wore the

popular colour damned them for not having cockades in their hats and bathed them set a good watch

tomorrow night upon the prison doors for the locks would have a straining another asked if they

were fireproof that they walked abroad without the distinguished remark of all good and true men

and a third who rode on horseback and was quite alone ordered them to throw each man a shilling

in his hat towards the support of the rioters although they were afraid to refuse the compliance

with this demand and were much alarmed by these reports they agreed having come so far to go

forward and see the real state of things with their own eyes so they pushed on quicker as men

do who are excited by both portentious news and ruminating on what they had heard spoke little

to each other it was now night and as they came nearer to the city they had dismal confirmation

of this intelligence in three great fires all closed together which burnt fiercely and were

gloomily reflected in the sky arriving in the immediate suburbs they found that almost every house

had chalked upon its door in large characters no popery that the shops were shut and that alarm

and anxiety were depicted in every face they passed noting these things with a degree of apprehension

which neither of the three neither of the three that's funny we wouldn't say we would say none

of the three wouldn't we neither we think of as two neither of the three cared to impart in its

full extent his companions they came to a ten pipe gate which was shut they were passing through

the turnstile on the path when a horseman rode up from London at a hard gallop and cooled to the

toll-keeper in a voice of great agitation to open quickly in the name of God the adoration was

so earnest and vehement that the man with a lantern in his hand came running out toll-keeper though

he was and was about to three the gate open when happening to look behind him exclaim he exclaimed

could heaven what's that another fire at this the three turned their heads and saw in the distance

straight in the direction once they had come a broad sheet of flame casting a threatening light

upon the clouds which glimmered as though the conflagration were behind them and showed like a

rothful sunset my mind misgives me said the horseman or I know from what building whose flames come

don't stand a gas my good fellow open the gate sir cried the man laying his hand upon his horses

bridle as he let him through I know you now sir be advised by me do not go on I saw them pass

and know what kind of men they are you will be murdered so be it said the horseman looking

intently towards the fire and not at him who spoke but sir sir cried the man grasping at his

rain more tightly yet if you do go on where the blue ribbon here sir he added taking one from

his own hat its necessity not choice that makes me wear it its love of life and home sir wear it

for this one night sir only for this one night do cried the three friends pressing around his

horse mr. Haredale worthy sir good gentleman pray be persuaded who's that cried mr. Haredale

stooping down to look did I hear days his voice you did sir cried the little man do be persuaded

this gentleman says very true your life may hang on it are you said mr. Haredale abruptly afraid to

come with me I sir no no put that ribbon in your hat if we meet the rioters swear that I took

you prisoner for wearing it I will tell them so with my own lips for as I hope for mercy when I die

I will take no quarter from them nor shall they have quarter from me if we come hand to hand to

night up here behind me quick class me tight around the body and fear nothing in an instant they were

riding away at full gallop in a dense cloud of dust and speeding on like hunters in a dream

it was well the good horse knew the road he traversed for never once no never once in all the

journey did mr. Haredale cast his eyes upon the ground or turn them for an instant from the light

towards which they sped so madly once he said in a low voice it is my house but that was the only

time he spoke when they came to the dark and doubtful places he never forgot to place his hand

upon the little man to hold him more securely in his seat but he kept his head erect and his

eyes fixed on the fire then and always the road was dangerous enough for they went the nearest

way headlong far from the highway by lonely lanes and paths where wagon wheels had worn deep

ruts where hedge and ditch dimmed in the narrow strip of ground and tall trees arching overhead made

it profoundly dark but on on on with neither stop nor stumble till they reached the maple door

and could plainly see that the fire began to fade as if for one to fuel down for one moment but for

one moment said mr. Haredale helping Daisy to the ground and following himself will it will it

wear my niece and servants will it crying to him distractedly he rushed into the bar the landlord

bound and fastened his chair the place dismantled stripped and pulled about his ears nobody could have

taken shelter here he was a strong man accustomed to restrain himself and suppress his strong

emotions but this preparation for what was to follow though he had seen that fire burning

and knew that his house must be raised to the ground was more than he could bear he covered

his face with his hands for a moment and turned away his head johnny johnny said Solomon and the

simple hearted fellow cried outright and rung his hands oh dear old johnny here's a change

that the maple bar should come to this and we should live to see it the old Warren to johnny

mr. Haredale oh johnny what a pitiest sight this is pointing to mr. Haredale as he said these words

little Solomon Daisy put his elbows on the back of mr. Willett's chair and fairly blubbered

onto his shoulders while Solomon was speaking old john sat mute as a stockfish staring at him

with an unearthly glare and displaying by every possible symptom entire and complete unconsciousness

but when Solomon was silent again john followed with his great round eyes the direction of his looks

and did appear to have some dawning distant notion that somebody had come to see him

you know I stoke you johnny said the little clerk wrapping himself on the breast

Daisy you know cheek well church bell ringer little desk on Sundays hey johnny mr. Willett

reflected for a few moments and then muttered as if it were as it were mechanically

let us sing to the praise and glory of yes to be sure cried the little man hastily that's it that's

me johnny you're right now ain't you say you're all right johnny all right pondered mr. Willett

as if it were a matter entirely between himself and his conscience all right they haven't been

misusing you with sticks or pokers or any other blunt instruments of they johnny are Solomon

with a very anxious glance at mr. Willett's head they didn't beat you did they johnny knitted his

brow looked downwards as if he were mentally engaged in some arithmetic arithmetical calculation

then upwards as if the title would not come at his call then at Solomon Daisy from his eyebrows

to his shoe buckle then very slowly round the bar and then a great round lead and looking

and not at all transparent tear came rolling out of each eye I can't bear it and he said as he

shook his head if they'd only had the goodness to murder me out of thank them kindly no no no don't

say that johnny when put his little friend it's very very bad but it's not quite so bad as

that no no lucky here sir cried john turning his roofalies on mr. hairdale who had dropped on one

knee and was hastily beginning to untie his bonds lucky here sir the very maple the old dumb

maple stares in at the winder as if it is said john will it john will it let's go and

pitch ourselves in the niest pool of water as is deep enough to hold us for our days over

don't johnny don't quite his friend no less affected by this mournful effort of mr. Willett's

imagination than by the Sepulchral tone in which he had spoken for the maple please don't johnny

your gloss is great and your misfortune a heavy one said mr. hairdale looking restlessly towards

the door and this is not a time to come for you if it were I am in no condition to do so before

I leave you tell me one thing and try to tell me plainly I implore you have you seen or heard

of Emma no said mr. Willett not anyone but these bloodhounds no they rode away and I trust in heaven

before these dreadful scenes began said mr. hairdale who between his agitation his eagerness to

mount his horse again and the dexterity with which the cords were tied had scarcely yet undone one

not a knife daisy you didn't said john looking about as if he had lost his pocket anger chief or

some such light slight article either of you gentlemen see a coffin anywhere did you

Willett cried mr. hairdale Solomon dropped the knife and instantly became limp from head to foot

and exclaimed could gracious because said john not at all regarding them a dead man called a

little time ago on his way yonder I could have told you what the name was on the plate if he had

brought his coffin with him but and left it behind if he didn't and it don't signify his landlord

who had listened to these words with breathless attention started that moment to his feet

and without a word drew Solomon daisy to the door and mounted his horse took him up behind him again

and flew rather than galloped towards the pile of ruins which that day's son had shone upon

a stately house mr. Willett stared after them listened looked down upon himself to make

quite sure that he was still unbound and without any manifestation of impatience disappointment or

surprise gently relapsed into the condition from which he had so imperfectly recovered mr.

hairdale tied his horse to the trunk of a tree and grasping his companions arm still 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 the roof and floor upon the heap

of crumbling ashes Solomon glanced timidly in his face but his lips were tightly pressed together

a resolute and stern expression sat upon his brown not a tear a look called gesture indicating

grief escaped him he drew his sword felt for a moment in his breast as though he carried

other arms about him and then grasping Solomon by the wrist again went with a cautious step

all round the house he looked into every doorway and gap in the wall retraced his steps at every

rustling of the air among the leaves and searched in every shadowed nook without stretched hands

thus they made the circuit of the building but they returned to the spot from which they had set

out without encountering any human being or finding the least trace of any concealed straggler

after a short pause mr. hairdale shouted twice or thrice then cried aloud

is there anyone in hiding here who knows my voice there is nothing to fear now if any of my

people are here I intrigued them to answer he called them all by name his voice was echoed in many

mournful tones then all was silent as before they were standing near the foot of the turret

where the alarm bell hung the fire had raged there and the floors had been sore and

hewn and beaten down besides it was open to the night but a part of the staircase still remained

winding upwards from a great mound of dust and cinders fragments of the jagged and broken steps

offered an insecure and giddy footing here and there and then were lost again behind protruding

angles of the wall or in the deep shadows cast upon it by other portions of the ruin for by

this time the moon had risen and shone brightly as they stood there listening to the echoes that as

they died away and hoping in vain to hear a voice they knew some of the ashes in this turret

slipped and rolled down startled by the least noise in that melancholy place Solomon looked up

at his companion's face and saw that he had turned towards the spot and that he watched and

listened keenly he covered the little man's mouth with his hand and looked again instantly with

kindling eyes he bade him on his life keep still and neither speak nor move then holding his breath

and stooping down he stole into the turret with his drawn sword in his hand and disappeared

terrified to be left there by himself under such desolate circumstances and after all he had

seen and heard that night Solomon would have followed but there had been something in Mr.

Heidel's manner and his look the recollection of which had held him spellbound he stood rooted

to the spot and scarcely ventured to breathe looked up with mingle fear and wander again the ashes

slipped and rolled very very softly again and then again as they they crumbled underneath the

tread of a stealthy foot and now a figure was dimly visible climbing very softly and often

stopping to look down now it pursued its difficult way and now it was hidden from the view again

it emerged once more into the shadowy and uncertain light higher now but not much for the way

was steep and toilsome and its progress very slow what phantom of the brain did he pursue and

why did he look down so constantly he knew he was alone surely his mind was not affected

by that night's loss and agony he was not about to throw himself headlong from the summit

of the tottering wall Solomon turned sick and clasped his hands his limbs trembled beneath him

and a cold sweat broke out on his fat pallid face if he complied with Mr. Heidel's last

injunction now it was because he had not the power to speak or move he strained his gaze and

fixed it on a patch of moonlight into which if he continued to ascend he must soon emerge

when he appeared there he would try to call to him again the ashes slipped and crumbled some

stones rolled down and fell with a dull heavy sound upon the ground below he kept his eyes upon

the piece of moonlight the figure was coming on for its shadow was already thrown upon the wall

now it appeared and now looked round at him and now the horror stricken clock uttered a scream

that pierced the air and cried the ghost the ghost long before the echo of his cry had died

away another form rushed out into the light flung itself upon the foremost one knelt down upon

its breast breast and clutched its throat with both hands villain cried Mr. Heidel in a terrible

voice for it was he 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 shed to conceal your own atrocious guilt you rudge double murderer

and monster I arrest you in the name of God who has delivered you into my hands no though you

had the strength of twenty men he added as the murderer arrived and struggled you could not

escape me or loosen my grasp tonight good night

you