Chapter the
Twenty-First – Chapter the Thirtieth: The part where Dolly is traveling through the woods
and Hugh scares here – oh my gosh, it was so creepy. He was like, seriously a stalker. I like this part:
‘Too near!’ said Hugh, stooping over her so that she could feel his breath upon her forehead. ‘Why too near? You’re always proud to me, mistress.’
‘I am proud to no one. You mistake me,’ answered Dolly. ‘Fall back, if you please, or go on.’
‘Nay, mistress,’ he rejoined, endeavouring to draw her arm through his, ‘I’ll walk with you.’
She released herself and clenching her little hand, struck him with right good will. At this, Maypole Hugh burst into a roar of laughter, and passing his arm about her waist, held her in his strong grasp as easily as if she had been a bird.
‘Ha ha ha! Well done, mistress! Strike again. You shall beat my face, and tear my hair, and pluck my beard up by the roots, and welcome, for the sake of your bright eyes. Strike again, mistress. Do. Ha ha ha! I like it.’” – Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens, pp.176 - 178
Hugh and Dolly in the woods by Phiz.
Oh…it seems like pushy guys have always
existed. Anyway, he threatens her and
the people she loves so that she doesn’t reveal who has ha harassed her in the
woods. She calls for Joe, who comes to
her aid, and doesn’t see Hugh (who has run off). He asks her who upset her, and she cries and
lies about the person. But she does tell
him she lost her letter (from Emma to Edward) and bracelet. And who does Joe call in to assist him in
looking for these things she’s lost? HUGH!
Oh my goodness, I could have died.
Later, Sim and Miggs are talking about Joe.
“ ‘I tell you,’ said the ‘prentice, ‘his ays are numbered. Leave me.
Get along with you.’ “ – Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens, p. 191
Also, it turns out that Hugh purposely has
tried to get the letter from Dolly to give to Mr. Chester. Hugh’s answer here is funny:
“ ‘Then I have come, sir,’ said
Hugh, ‘and I have brought it back, and something else along with it. A letter,
sir, it is, that I took from the person who had charge of it.’ As he spoke, he
laid upon the dressing-table, Dolly’s lost epistle. The very letter that had
cost her so much trouble.
‘Did you obtain this by force, my
good fellow?’ said Mr Chester, casting his eye upon it without the least perceptible
surprise or pleasure.
‘Not quite,’ said Hugh. ‘Partly.’
“ – Barnaby Rudge by
Charles Dickens, p. 195
Haha. Partly.
Also, Sim wants to get back and Joe for
liking Dolly, and informs Mr. Chester that Joe is perpetuating the affair of
Edward and Emma, and is talking about Mr. Chester behind his back (which Joe is
not doing the bad talking, as far as I can tell).
Apparently, Mary Rudge has become (or has
always been) bitter towards Mr. Haredale, who I think has owned her house and has been giving her money since
the death of Mr. Rudge. She tells Mr.
Haredale she no longer wants his aid, and he and Emma both are confused by
this.
Meanwhile, Mr. Chester is successfully
eliminating those who have supported Emma and Edward’s relationship, namely Joe
and Dolly, by talking to their parents.
Both John Willet and Martha Varden are impressed by Mr. Chester – ugh,
Mr Chester’s flattering of Mrs. Varden was disgusting. Not only was he going overboard with it, but
she believes him! Mr. Chester also tells
Emma that Edward does not want to marry her because she is poor.
Miss Haredale on the bridge by Phiz.
John also starts taking advantage of Joe:
“A homely proverb recognises the existence of a troublesome class of
persons who, having an inch conceded them, will take an ell. Not to quote the
illustrious examples of those heroic scourges of mankind, whose amiable path in
life has been from birth to death through blood, and fire, and ruin, and who
would seem to have existed for no better purpose than to teach mankind that as
the absence of pain is pleasure, so the earth, purged of their presence, may be
deemed a blessed place—not to quote such mighty instances, it will be sufficient
to refer to old John Willet.
Old John having long encroached a good standard inch, full measure, on
the liberty of Joe, and having snipped off a Flemish ell in the matter of the
parole, grew so despotic and so great, that his thirst for conquest knew no
bounds. The more young Joe submitted, the more absolute old John became. The
ell soon faded into nothing. Yards, furlongs, miles arose; and on went old John
in the pleasantest manner possible, trimming off an exuberance in this place,
shearing away some liberty of speech or action in that, and conducting himself
in his small way with as much high mightiness and majesty, as the most glorious
tyrant that ever had his statue reared in the public ways, of ancient or of
modern times.
As great men are urged on to the abuse of power (when they need urging,
which is not often), by their flatterers and dependents, so old John was
impelled to these exercises of authority by the applause and admiration of his
Maypole cronies, who, in the intervals of their nightly pipes and pots, would
shake their heads and say that Mr Willet was a father of the good old English
sort; that there were no newfangled notions or modern ways in him; that he put
them in mind of what their fathers were when they were boys; that there was no
mistake about him; that it would be well for the country if there were more
like him, and more was the pity that there were not; with many other original
remarks of that nature. Then they would condescendingly give Joe to understand
that it was all for his good, and he would be thankful for it one day; and in
particular, Mr Cobb would acquaint him, that when he was his age, his father
thought no more of giving him a parental kick, or a box on the ears, or a cuff
on the head, or some little admonition of that sort, than he did of any other
ordinary duty of life; and he would further remark, with looks of great
significance, that but for this judicious bringing up, he might have never been
the man he was at that present speaking; which was probable enough, as he was,
beyond all question, the dullest dog of the party. In short, between old John
and old John’s friends, there never was an unfortunate young fellow so bullied,
badgered, worried, fretted, and brow-beaten; so constantly beset, or made so
tired of his life, as poor Joe Willet.” – Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens, pp. 250 – 251
We all know people like John Willet, now don’t
we? Well, Joe gets fed up with it and
leaves his house.
This is one of those books that I can’t quit
reading. Also, the fact that I’ve been
sick with a cold has been a good excuse for not doing anything else but reading.
;)
Pictures from Google Images.
