Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
THE POPULAR RIOT.—SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S DANGER.—THE
SUGGESTION AND ITS RESULTS.
Such,
then, were the circumstances which at once altered the whole aspect of the
affairs, and, from private and domestic causes of very deep annoyance, led to
public results of a character which seemed likely to involve the whole
country-side in the greatest possible confusion.
But
while we blame Mr. Chillingworth for being so indiscreet as to communicate the
secret of such a person as Varney the vampyre to his wife, we trust in a short
time to be enabled to show that he made as much reparation as it was possible
to make for the mischief he had unintentionally committed. And now as he
struggled onward—apparently onward—first and foremost among the rioters, he was
really doing all in his power to quell that tumult which superstition and dread
had raised.
Human
nature truly delights in the marvellous, and in proportion as a knowledge of
the natural phenomena of nature is restricted, and unbridled imagination
allowed to give the rein to fathomless conjecture, we shall find an eagerness
likewise to believe the marvellous to be the truth.
That
dim and uncertain condition concerning vampyres, originating probably as it had
done in Germany, had spread itself slowly, but insidiously, throughout the
whole of the civilized world.
In no
country and in no clime is there not something which bears a kind of family
relationship to the veritable vampyre of which Sir Francis Varney appeared to
be so choice a specimen.
The
ghoul
of eastern nations is but the same
being, altered to suit habits and localities; and the
sema
of the Scandinavians is but the
vampyre of a more primitive race, and a personification of that morbid
imagination which has once fancied the probability of the dead walking again
among the living, with all the frightful insignia of corruption and the grave about
them.
Although
not popular in England, still there had been tales told of such midnight
visitants, so that Mrs. Chillingworth, when she had imparted the information
which she had obtained, had already some rough material to work upon in the
minds of her auditors, and therefore there was no great difficulty in very soon
establishing the fact.
Under
such circumstances, ignorant people always do what they have heard has been
done by some one else before them and in an incredibly short space of time the
propriety of catching Sir Francis Varney, depriving him of his vampyre-like
existence, and driving a stake through his body, became not at all a
questionable proposition.
Alas,
poor Mr. Chillingworth! as well might he have attempted King Canute's task of
stemming the waves of the ocean as that of attempting to stop the crowd from
proceeding to Sir Francis Varney's house.
His
very presence was a sort of confirmation of the whole affair. In vain he
gesticulated, in vain he begged and prayed that they would go back, and in vain
he declared that full and ample justice should be done upon the vampyre,
provided popular clamour spared him, and he was left to more deliberate
judgment.
Those
who were foremost in the throng paid no attention to these remonstrances while those
who were more distant heard them not, and, for all they knew, he might be
urging the crowd on to violence, instead of deprecating it.
Thus,
then, this disorderly rabble soon reached the house of Sir Francis Varney and
loudly demanded of his terrified servant where he was to be found.
The
knocking at the Hall door was prodigious, and, with a laudable desire,
doubtless, of saving time, the moment one was done amusing himself with the
ponderous knocker, another seized it; so that until the door was flung open by
some of the bewildered and terrified men, there was no cessation whatever of
the furious demands for admittance.
"Varney
the vampyre—Varney the vampyre!" cried a hundred voices. "Death to
the vampyre! Where is he? Bring him out. Varney the vampyre!"
The
servants were too terrified to speak for some moments, as they saw such a
tumultuous assemblage seeking their master, while so singular a name was
applied to him. At length, one more bold than the rest contrived to stammer
out,—
"My
good people, Sir Francis Varney is not at home. He took an early breakfast, and
has been out nearly an hour."
The
mob paused a moment in indecision, and then one of the foremost cried,—
"Who'd
suppose they'd own he was at home? He's hiding somewhere of course; let's pull him
out."
"Ah,
pull him out—pull him out!" cried many voices. A rush was made into the
hall and in a very few minutes its chambers were ransacked, and all its hidden
places carefully searched, with the hope of discovering the hidden form of Sir
Francis Varney.
The
servants felt that, with their inefficient strength, to oppose the proceedings
of an assemblage which seemed to be unchecked by all sort of law or reason,
would be madness; they therefore only looked on, with wonder and dismay,
satisfied certainly in their own minds that Sir Francis would not be found, and
indulging in much conjecture as to what would be the result of such violent and
unexpected proceedings.
Mr.
Chillingworth hoped that time was being gained, and that some sort of
indication of what was going on would reach the unhappy object of popular
detestation sufficiently early to enable him to provide for his own safety.
He
knew he was breaking his own engagement to be present at the duel between Henry
Bannerworth and Sir Francis Varney, and, as that thought recurred to him, he
dreaded that his professional services might be required on one side or the
other; for he knew, or fancied he knew, that mutual hatred dictated the
contest; and he thought that if ever a duel had taken place which was likely to
be attended with some disastrous result, that was surely the one.
But
how could he leave, watched and surrounded as he was by an infuriated
multitude—how could he hope but that his footsteps would be dogged, or that the
slightest attempt of his to convey a warning to Sir Francis Varney, would not
be the means of bringing down upon his head the very danger he sought to shield
him from.
In
this state of uncertainty, then, did our medical man remain, a prey to the
bitterest reflections, and full of the direst apprehensions, without having the
slightest power of himself to alter so disastrous a train of circumstances.
Dissatisfied
with their non-success, the crowd twice searched the house of Sir Francis
Varney, from the attics to the basement; and then, and not till then, did they
begin reluctantly to believe that the servants must have spoken the truth.
"He's
in the town somewhere," cried one. "Let's go back to the town."
It is
strange how suddenly any mob will obey any impulse, and this perfectly groundless
supposition was sufficient to turn their steps back again in the direction
whence they came, and they had actually, in a straggling sort of column,
reached halfway towards the town, when they encountered a boy, whose
professional pursuit consisted in tending sheep very early of a morning, and
who at once informed them that he had seen Sir Francis Varney in the wood, half
way between Bannerworth Hall and his own home.
This
event at once turned the whole tide again, and with renewed clamours, carrying
Mr. Chillingworth along with them, they now rapidly neared the real spot,
where, probably, had they turned a little earlier, they would have viewed the
object of their suspicion and hatred.
But,
as we have already recorded, the advancing throng was seen by the parties on
the ground, where the duel could scarcely have been said to have been fought;
and then had Sir Francis Varney dashed into the wood, which was so opportunely
at hand to afford him a shelter from his enemies, and from the intricacies of
which—well acquainted with them as he doubtless was,—he had every chance of
eluding their pursuit.
The
whole affair was a great surprise to Henry and his friends, when they saw such
a string of people advancing, with such shouts and imprecations; they could
not, for the life of them, imagine what could have excited such a turn out
among the ordinarily industrious and quiet inhabitants of a town, remarkable
rather for the quietude and steadiness of its population, than for any violent
outbreaks of popular feeling.
"What
can Mr. Chillingworth be about," said Henry, "to bring such a mob
here? has he taken leave of his senses?"
"Nay,"
said Marchdale; "look again; he seems to be trying to keep them back,
although ineffectually, for they will not be stayed."
"D——e,"
said the admiral, "here's a gang of pirates; we shall be boarded and
carried before we know where we are, Jack."
"Ay
ay, sir," said Jack.
"And
is that all you've got to say, you lubber, when you see your admiral in danger?
You'd better go and make terms with the enemy at once."
"Really,
this is serious," said Henry; "they shout for Varney. Can Mr.
Chillingworth have been so mad as to adopt this means of stopping the
duel?"
"Impossible,"
said Marchdale; "if that had been his intention, he could have done so quietly,
through the medium of the civil authorities."
"Hang
me!" exclaimed the admiral, "if there are any civil authorities; they
talk of smashing somebody. What do they say, Jack? I don't hear quite so well
as I used."
"You
always was a little deaf," said Jack.
"What?"
"A
little deaf, I say."
"Why,
you lubberly lying swab, how dare you say so?"
"Because
you was."
"You
slave-going scoundrel!"
"For
Heaven's sake, do not quarrel at such a time as this!" said Henry;
"we shall be surrounded in a moment. Come, Mr. Marchdale, let you and I
visit these people, and ascertain what it is that has so much excited their
indignation."
"Agreed,"
said Marchdale; and they both stepped forward at a rapid pace, to meet the
advancing throng.
The
crowd which had now approached to within a short distance of the expectant
little party, was of a most motley description, and its appearance, under many
circumstances, would cause considerable risibility. Men and women were mixed
indiscriminately together, and in the shouting, the latter, if such a thing
were possible, exceeded the former, both in discordance and energy.
Every
individual composing that mob carried some weapon calculated for defence, such
as flails, scythes, sickles, bludgeons, &c., and this mode of arming caused
them to wear a most formidable appearance; while the passion that superstition
had called up was strongly depicted in their inflamed features. Their fury,
too, had been excited by their disappointment, and it was with concentrated
rage that they now pressed onward.
The
calm and steady advance of Henry and Mr. Marchdale to meet the advancing
throng, seemed to have the effect of retarding their progress a little, and
they came to a parley at a hedge, which separated them from the meadow in which
the duel had been fought.
"You
seem to be advancing towards us," said Henry. "Do you seek me or any
of my friends; and if so, upon what errand? Mr. Chillingworth, for Heaven's
sake, explain what is the cause of all this assault. You seem to be at the head
of it."
"Seem
to be," said Mr. Chillingworth, "without being so. You are not
sought, nor any of your friends?"
"Who,
then?"
"Sir
Francis Varney," was the immediate reply.
"Indeed!
and what has he done to excite popular indignation? of private wrong I can
accuse him; but I desire no crowd to take up my cause, or to avenge my
quarrels."
"Mr.
Bannerworth, it has become known, through my indiscretion, that Sir Francis
Varney is suspected of being a vampyre."
"Is
this so?"
"Hurrah!"
shouted the mob. "Down with the vampyre! hurrah! where is he? Down with
him!"
"Drive
a stake through him," said a woman; "it's the only way, and the
humanest. You've only to take a hedge stake and sharpen it a bit at one end,
and char it a little in the fire so as there mayt'n't be no splinters to hurt,
and then poke it through his stomach."
The
mob gave a great shout at this humane piece of advice, and it was some time
before Henry could make himself heard at all, even to those who were nearest to
him.
When
he did succeed in so doing, he cried, with a loud voice,—
"Hear
me, all of you. It is quite needless for me to inquire how you became possessed
of the information that a dreadful suspicion hangs over the person of Sir
Francis Varney; but if, in consequence of hearing such news, you fancy this
public demonstration will be agreeable to me, or likely to relieve those who
are nearest or dearest to me from the state of misery and apprehension into
which they have fallen, you are much mistaken."
"Hear
him, hear him!" cried Mr. Marchdale; "he speaks both wisdom and
truth."