Cruikshank, George, 1792-1878; Illustration of books -- Great Britain -- 19th century; Watercolor painting, British
On pressed the people from the front--on, on, on, in a strong
struggling current of angry faces, with here and there a glaring
torch to lighten them up, and show them out in all their wrath
and passion. The houses on the opposite side of the ditch had been
entered by the mob; sashes were thrown up, or torn bodily out; there
were tiers and tiers of faces in every window; cluster upon cluster
of people clinging to every house-top. Each little bridge (and there
were three in sight) bent beneath the weight of the crowd upon it.
Still the current poured on to find some nook or hole from which to
vent their shouts, and only for an instant see the wretch.
‘They have him now,’ cried a man on the nearest bridge. ‘Hurrah!’
The crowd grew light with uncovered heads; and again the shout
uprose.
‘I will give fifty pounds,’ cried an old gentleman from the same
quarter, ‘to the man who takes him alive. I will remain here, till
he come to ask me for it.’
There was another roar. At this moment the word was passed among the
crowd that the door was forced at last, and that he who had first
called for the ladder had mounted into the room. The stream abruptly
turned, as this intelligence ran from mouth to mouth; and the people
at the windows, seeing those upon the bridges pouring back, quitted
their stations, and running into the street, joined the concourse
that now thronged pell-mell to the spot they had left: each man
crushing and striving with his neighbor, and all panting with
impatience to get near the door, and look upon the criminal as the
officers brought him out. The cries and shrieks of those who were
pressed almost to suffocation, or trampled down and trodden
under foot in the confusion, were dreadful; the narrow ways were
completely blocked up; and at this time, between the rush of some to
regain the space in front of the house, and the unavailing struggles
of others to extricate themselves from the mass, the immediate
attention was distracted from the murderer, although the universal
eagerness for his capture was, if possible, increased.
The man had shrunk down, thoroughly quelled by the ferocity of
the crowd, and the impossibility of escape; but seeing this sudden
change with no less rapidity than it had occurred, he sprang
upon his feet, determined to make one last effort for his life
by dropping into the ditch, and, at the risk of being stifled,
endeavouring to creep away in the darkness and confusion.
Roused into new strength and energy, and stimulated by the noise
within the house which announced that an entrance had really been
effected, he set his foot against the stack of chimneys, fastened
one end of the rope tightly and firmly round it, and with the other
made a strong running noose by the aid of his hands and teeth almost
in a second. He could let himself down by the cord to within a less
distance of the ground than his own height, and had his knife ready
in his hand to cut it then and drop.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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