When they were very near to where the secretary, Sir John, and Mr. Haredale stood, Lord George turned round and, making a few remarks of a sufficiently violent and incoherent kind, concluded with the usual sentiment, and called for three cheers to back it. While these were in the act of being given with great energy, he extricated himself from the press, and stepped up to Gashford’s side. Both he and Sir John being well known to the populace, they fell back a little, and left the four standing together.
“Mr. Haredale, Lord George,” said Sir John Chester, seeing that the nobleman regarded him with an inquisitive look. “A Catholic gentleman unfortunately—most unhappily a Catholic—but an esteemed acquaintance of mine, and once of Mr. Gashford’s. My dear Haredale, this is Lord George Gordon.”
“I should have known that, had I been ignorant of his lordship’s person,” said Mr. Haredale. “I hope there is but one gentleman in England who, addressing an ignorant and excited throng, would speak of a large body of his fellow-subjects in such injurious language as I heard this moment. For shame, my lord, for shame!”
“I cannot talk to you, sir,” replied Lord George in a loud voice, and waving his hand in a disturbed and agitated manner; “we have nothing in common.”
“We have much in common—many things—all that the Almighty gave us,” said Mr. Haredale; “and common charity, not to say common sense and common decency, should teach you to refrain from these proceedings. If every one of those men had arms in their hands at this moment, as they have them in their heads, I would not leave this place without telling you that you disgrace your station.”
“I don’t hear you, sir,” he replied in the same manner as before; “I can’t hear you. It is indifferent to me what you say. Don’t retort, Gashford,” for the secretary had made a show of wishing to do so; “I can hold no communion with the worshippers of idols.”
As he said this, he glanced at Sir John, who lifted his hands and eyebrows, as if deploring the intemperate conduct of Mr. Haredale, and smiled in admiration of the crowd and of their leader.
“He retort!” cried Haredale. “Look you here, my lord. Do you know this man?”
Lord George replied by laying his hand upon the shoulder of his cringing secretary, and viewing him with a smile of confidence.
“This man,” said Mr. Haredale, eyeing him from top to toe, “who in his boyhood was a thief, and has been from that time to this, a servile, false, and truckling knave: this man, who has crawled and crept through life, wounding the hands he licked, and biting those he fawned upon: this sycophant, who never knew what honour, truth, or courage meant; who robbed his benefactor’s daughter of her virtue, and married her to break her heart, and did it, with stripes and cruelty: this creature, who has whined at kitchen windows for the broken food, and begged for halfpence at our chapel doors: this apostle of the faith, whose tender conscience cannot bear the altars where his vicious life was publicly denounced—Do you know this man?”
“Oh, really—you are very, very hard upon our friend!” exclaimed Sir John.
“Let Mr. Haredale go on,” said Gashford, upon whose unwholesome face the perspiration had broken out during this speech, in blotches of wet; “I don’t mind him, Sir John; it’s quite as indifferent to me what he says, as it is to my lord. If he reviles my lord, as you have heard, Sir John, how can I hope to escape?”
“Is it not enough, my lord,” Mr. Haredale continued, “that I, as good a gentleman as you, must hold my property, such as it is, by a trick at which the state connives because of these hard laws; and that we may not teach our youth in schools the common principles of right and wrong; 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!”
The infatuated nobleman had glanced more than once at Sir John Chester, as if to inquire whether there was any truth in these statements concerning Gashford, and Sir John had as often plainly answered by a shrug or look, “Oh dear me! no.” He now said, in the same loud key, and in the same strange manner as before:
“I have nothing to say, sir, in reply, and no desire to hear anything more. I beg you won’t obtrude your conversation, or these personal attacks, upon me. I shall not be deterred from doing my duty to my country and my countrymen, by any such attempts, whether they proceed from emissaries of the Pope or not, I assure you. Come, Gashford!”
They had walked on a few paces while speaking, and were now at the Hall-door, through which they passed together. Mr. Haredale, without any leave-taking, turned away to the river stairs, which were close at hand, and hailed the only boatman who remained there.
But the throng of people—the foremost of whom had heard every word that Lord George Gordon said, and among all of whom the rumour had been rapidly dispersed that the stranger was a Papist who was bearding him for his advocacy of the popular cause—came pouring out pell-mell, and, forcing the nobleman, his secretary, and Sir John Chester on before them, so that they appeared to be at their head, crowded to the top of the stairs where Mr. Haredale waited until the boat was ready, and there stood still, leaving him on a little clear space by himself.
They were not silent, however, though inactive. At first some indistinct mutterings arose among them, which were followed by a hiss or two, and these swelled by degrees into a perfect storm. Then one voice said, “Down with the Papists!” and there was a pretty general cheer, but nothing more. After a lull of a few moments, one man cried out, “Stone him;” another, “Duck
