In Which a Spectacle is Created. Read Ch. 8.
That evening, two young slaves to aesthetics, who were very much in drink (having consumed a bowl of punch at a local establishment), sought to leave without paying for it. The woman of the house, being of stout bearing and character, suggested mildly to the pair that she expected that each would pay their reckoning without delay or fuss. The less slender of the two dandified gentlemen, in a reprobate manner, swore that she should die that minute, and that deuce should take him if he had not already paid more than his fair portion. Of course he had not, and knew as much. Based upon her crude and humble habit, hey had mistaken the woman for a simpleton (as is the wont of men of fashion) and therefore an easy mark. The two made several scurrilous and objectionable gestures towards her, as well as several unforgivable aspersions, before turning heel and making for the door.
Much to the discomfiture of the young men, however, the woman was neither intimidated nor dissuaded by their display. Instead, in her heavy right arm she produced a truncheon and followed them out the door.
The three made for a fine spectacle as they made through the streets of town. For her part, the woman, who was by that time fixed on exacting her compensation, neither slackened nor quickened her pace, but moved deliberately towards her prey. Conversely, the young men found that their heeled boots made running insufferable, but as they were too frightened to walk, they assumed a gate heretofore unseen in nature (partly hopping, partly jiggering, and mostly warbling) as they attempted to evade the determined frau, and remain on their feet. Periodically, one or the other would slip and fall to the street, which soiled and tore their fineries. This caused their fear to mix with embarrassment, and caused them to howl still more epithets towards their pursuer in the vain hope that she would give up the chase (such as it was). They seemed like giant, filthy, puffer fish.
After traveling some distance the two men noticed that the chase had drawn a crowd, which added to their shame. No longer satisfied with The crowd, such as it was, had first gathered out of a sense of curiosity. It was not, after all, ever day when two young dandies were seen to be pursued in such a manner, though many, who had chanced to interact with the more fashionable of the species, believed it should happen with much greater regularity.
Once the crowd had come to understand the nature of the dispute (via the Jacobite common consciousness that arises from mobs), the crowd’s curiosity morphed into the more sinister desire to satiate a primordial thirst for bloodshed. Like Roman citizens at the Coliseum, the crowd cheered and wheedled the pursuer towards violent ends, and mocked the two darlings, now dressed as much by mud and fear as by cloth. It was, as the reader can imagine, the mockery that struck the two men must directly: anyone who would openly deride his social better was clearly capable of anything.
As the reader knows, all roads must end, and this road was no exception. The whole menagerie came to a halt when it arrived at a massive iron gate. The forbidding and ornate structure was 10 feet high, sporting massive iron rods that looked like spears with sharpened steel tips that pierced the sky, and cross members that displayed angry metal burrs. In the center of the gate, below an enormous iron “G” was a formidable lock that could only be opened from the inside. It was here that the two young men had their flight interrupted.
The entirety of the fence suggested that visitors were not welcome, though few in the crowd took notice of that fact. More importantly, our young dandies seemed oblivious to that fact as well. Or perhaps they simply decided that the dangers presented by the gate were less imminent that the ones presented by their pursuer, and, quick as you please, they had doffed their boots and sprung over the gate as if by magical means.
Having found themselves without boots, but alive and safe on the fairer side of the gate, prudence would dictate that the young men adopt an air of humility and calm, or at lease disappear into the shadows. But, as the reader may have correctly guessed, the two men were an imprudent lot, and rather than consolidating their gains, sought to set the social order aright vis. a vis. their attacker and the gathering crowd. Having suffered unwelcome, and to their minds unwarranted, abuse from the subhuman crowd, and feeling secure behind the iron bars, they chose to incite both the woman and the crowd by hurling still further insults, some of which, as the reader can well imagine, were inflammatory.
The crowd, and the woman, did not suffer well the invectives hurled upon them, and their anger grew to a fevered pitch. Several of the crowd began to pull at the gate: its steel bars screeched with each tug, and its heavy forged hinges betrayed a significant structural defect that had not been apparent just moments earlier.
Spying at once the frailness of the gate, and the progress that was made by the mob in removing it, our two dandies had hastened towards the front door of the home hoping to gain entrance and find sanctuary. They raced to the entrance, and upon reaching the door, found it locked. They pounded for what seemed an eternity, pleading at the top of their lungs for the occupants to let them in.
Emboldened by their progress, more of the crowd pulled and tugged at the massive iron structure until, at last, with one herculean hoist, the hinges gave way, the gate (which weighed far more than any of the crowd imagined) fell back over the crowd, and crashed to the earth injuring more than a few members.
The crowd, more than 500 strong by that point, moved deliberately towards the young men, and shouted and cursed and cried as they went. Forks, sticks, blades and bludgeons were wielded by a goodly number, and if a crowd is permitted to have a collective eye, there was blood in this crowd’s eye.
Mr. Dick, who had been watching the scene from an upstairs window in Baron Granger’s home for several minutes now, began to panic. But he also saw opportunity. Quickly as a ferret, he hastened to the cellar and procured a number of the Baron’s finest vintages. Then he skulked to the library, where he procured several rare volumes, and finally he cantered to the pantry where he gathered much of the Granger silver. He took his booty up to the servant’s quarters, looked around to ensure secrecy, and lifted the third floorboard which revealed a hidden lock box. There, he quickly stowed his treasure.
As the crowd neared the house, Mr. Dick fled to Baron’s Granger’s bedchambers, and rousted him from slumber. He explained that a mob had broken into the home, stolen wine, books and silver, and were coming next for the Baron himself. Granger, who was at once inebriated, exhausted, and confused, took his man at his word. Fear filled his heart because he had always believed that, one day, the masses would rise up, and that day had arrived. Clarity of purpose filled his mind for he had planned for the day he would have to flee from the masses that had raised themselves, and now was the time to put that plan into action.
Say what you will about Baron Granger, he was not the sort who would trifle about possessions when his safety was at issue, so his plan, such as it was, was quite simple: he was to run as far and as fast as he could away from the mob. The reader may suppose that such a plan was not really a plan at all, or at least not much of an improvement over having no plan at all. But it was developed with a great deal of time and thought. The reality was, when the masses rise up, and they are at your door, there really isn’t much else to be done. Recognizing that there was no time to waste, the Baron and his man fled out the back door of the home with only the clothes on Herman Dick’s back.
When they had exited the home, they were startled to see a uniformed man, seated on the steps leading from the structure. His presence, while unexpected, had a strange calming influence on the Baron and Mr. Dick. He offered the Baron a blanket to cover his natural state, and said simply: “Baron Granger, I am pleased to welcome you back from your stay in the country. My name is Constable Flintflitz and there a several inquiries I would make of you.” Flintflitz, at last, had his man.
The Constable escorted the pair back into the strangely undisturbed home. Though the gate was still down, the dandies, the crowd and any other evidence of their presence had vanished. Except for the items taken by Mr. Dick himself, the home remained unsullied. This left Herman Dick to consider whether Flintflitz had simply used the melee to his benefit, or orchestrated the entire matter in an overly elaborate ruse designed to flush out the Baron. Lest the reader give credence to such fancy, it should be considered that a ruse would be deemed unbecoming by a man of Flintflitz’s station, and Mr. Dick was quite drunk. It did, however, work out to the constable’s benefit, and he now had his audience with the Baron.
[…] November 10th, 2011 § 0 comments Written by: Alfred D Orson for The Literary Dandy.on November 10, 2011.on December 28, 2011.Which Treats of a Fruitless Inquiry and the End of a Dick Read Ch. 9. […]