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Updated: May 12, 2025
I have brooded on that subject so long, that every breath of suspicion carries me back to it. You are quite right. 'It isn't, sir, cried the locksmith with brightened eyes, and sturdy, honest voice; 'it isn't because I courted her before Rudge, and failed, that I say she was too good for him. She would have been as much too good for me.
The expression of surprise which passed over the master's countenance made me fear that I had said something imprudent. "If your father were dead, that would only have aggravated Rudge's fault," he said. "I do not excuse him; I will see what he has to say for himself." Rudge was sent for, and appeared with his two black eyes.
In another moment the rich peal of an organ sounded from within, followed by the prolonged howling of Rudge, who, either from a too keen appreciation of his master's music or in utter disapproval of it, no one, I believe, has ever been able to make out which, was accustomed to add this undesirable accompaniment to every strain from the old man's hand.
He is energy, and energy by itself is always suicidal; he is that primordial energy which tears and which destroys itself. Barnaby Rudge was written by Dickens in the spring and first flowing tide of his popularity; it came immediately after The Old Curiosity Shop, and only a short time after Pickwick.
While I was in the midst of all these admirings, my attention was roused by a dialogue that passed between two of my senior fellow-pupils, whose names were Rudge and Trottman, which the former thus began. 'That was a d rascally cause we were concerned in yesterday. 'Rascally enough. But we got it. 'I can't say but I was sorry for the poor farmer. 'Sorry! Ha, ha, ha!
Dickens has thus described the riot scene in "Barnaby Rudge": "The gutters of the street and every crack and fissure in the stones ran with scorching spirit, which being dammed up by busy hands overflowed the road and pavement, and formed a great pool into which the people dropped down dead by dozens.
Is Bulwer, Pelham, and Paul Clifford, Eugene Aram, and the Lady of Lyons? Is James, Mary of Burgundy, Darnley, the Gipsy, and Corse de Leon? Is Dickens, Sam Weller, Quilp, and Barnaby Rudge? to what absurdities will this lead us! and yet Bernard Cavanagh was no more guilty than any of these gentlemen.
As Boz had nothing to do with it, there could be no objection. Barnaby Rudge, however, was the piece of resistance. On another occasion, January, 1840, came Mr. J. Russell, with his vocal entertainment, "Russell's Recollections" and "A Portrait from the Pickwick Gallery." "Have you seen him? Alphabetical Distinctions. A sample of MISTER SAM WELLER'S Descriptive Powers."
I let my eye roam toward a chair standing suspiciously near the very window he had designated. "But you saw the light?" I suggested. "I saw that from the door-step when I went out to give Rudge his usual five minutes' breathing spell on the stoop. But you have not answered my question; whom do you mean by she?" "Veronica Jeffrey," I replied. "She who was Veronica Moore.
This is why operating surgeons, who are usually out of the house with their fee in their pockets before the patient has recovered consciousness, and who therefore see nothing of the suffering witnessed by the general practitioner and the nurse, occasionally talk of operations very much as the hangman in Barnaby Rudge talked of executions, as if being operated on were a luxury in sensation as well as in price.
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